The road is neither straight nor smooth,
worn by footsteps, shaped by storms.
Each step carries weight,
each choice leaves a mark.
Kindness is not a debt but a gift,
given freely, returned in ways unseen.
Strength is not in silence,
but in the courage to speak, to listen,
to change.
Time does not wait,
nor does it warn.
It moves like the tide,
pulling us forward,
whether we are ready or not.
Love is not perfect,
nor is it meant to be.
It bends, it mends, it endures,
if we let it.
And at the end,
we are not measured by what we kept,
but by what we gave,
But the moments we dared to live.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem