Wisdom Comes Poem by ashok jadhav

Wisdom comes not with thunder or with flame,
Nor crowned by answers sudden, sharp, and clear;
It enters softly, seldom called by name,
Through years that teach by loss and quiet fear.
It grows from questions left to breathe alone,
From truths that patience slowly learns to hold;
What once was urgent hardens into stone,
Then wears to insight, tempered, spare, and old.
It asks us not to conquer or command,
But see the limits shaping what we are;
To loosen pride, to open up the hand,
And read our path by an interior star.
So wisdom comes when striving learns to cease:
Not to make us certain—but at peace.