Fourlinegraphia

Seed the thought, a treasure sown, Like a tiny star not yet fully known. Plant the seed, let courage start, Shape the clay, and build the art. Mold the clay with patient hands, Like a river shaping distant lands. Set it true in mind and heart, For every masterpiece must start. A spark is struck, the flame burns bright, Like dawn that gently conquers night. To make, to mold, to shape it right, Turn dreams to wings and take to flight. Yesterday you created, today create still, Like a mountain rising through strength and will. Each small step, though slow it seems, Builds the bridge between goals and dreams. The seed becomes a flowering tree, The clay becomes what eyes can see. The spark becomes a guiding light, For those who dare and those who fight. So sow your thoughts and play your part, With steadfast hands and a hopeful heart. Create your path, your song, your way, And shape a brighter world each day. 

  A day postpartum, I slept upon my mother's chest. I did not know her fears, I did not know her tears. I only knew the rhythm of her heart. " "I was her tomorrow." " My tiny fingers wrapped around her hand, and she whispered promises I was too young to understand. But I believed every one of them. . As months passed, I learned to smile when she smiled, to laugh when she laughed, to reach for her whenever I was afraid. " "She was my whole world.' ." I never saw the shadows growing inside her. I never understood the distance. I never knew why the warmth began to fade. . "I was only a child." . Then new footsteps entered our lives. New voices filled the rooms. The grown-ups spoke a language I could not understand- . "A language of secrets, of desires, of choices." . Still, I waited by the door. Still, I stretched out my arms. Still, I called for the people I loved most. . "Because children do not know betrayal. Children ...