The Book I Choose

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A silent breath begins the open page;

Dawn lifts the cover, names the day as mine.

White margins wait for hands that choose a word.


Small steps learn balance, falling into light;

Wide eyes drink color, sound, and sky made new.

Each morning hums a promise to my feet.


Warm sparks of friendship catch against the wind;

Shared laughter trades its truth at edge of dusk.

Trust learns its flame by standing in the storm.


Time thickens ink; sharp lessons press the heart.

A shadow settles, heavy in the chest;

Tears cool the ground where broken roots took hold.


I step ahead; my wonder leads through dark.

My will is forged by standing all alone;

Strength wakes where none had named it living yet.


High peaks demand the courage of my climb;

Low valleys hold the hush of doubt and fear.

Both tune the grain and color of my self.


No borrowed map can fit another star;

Their winds are set for far and foreign shores.

My course obeys the pull I choose to trust.


I hold love fast; kind hands unlock the world.

Soft mercy enters with the morning light;

The world replies to how my heart is used.


The final page stays hidden past the bend;

The middle burns with labor, breath, and fire.

My book is lived by how I choose to write.


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