Maybe we cannot change the harshness of the world Maybe there will always be days that take more from us Than they ever give back Days when the light feels distant When hope becomes something we have to carry... rather than feel But perhaps that is where our choice begins We may not be able to decide what breaks us What leaves us behind, or what turns the sky above us grey But we can decide... what we become because of it We can let the darkness harden us Or we can learn to carry a softer kind of light Not the kind that blinds, not the kind that needs to be seen Just a quiet light—the kind that remains when no one is watching The kind that survives... even after everything has given us reasons to disappear Because perhaps that is what it means to keep living Not to pretend that the world is kind Not to deny the wounds, or forget the nights When we thought we would never see morning again— But to wake up anyway... to look at the grey sky And still remember that somewhere beneath it The sun has not ceased to exist! And maybe, one day, when the yellow returns We will understand that the grey days Were never proof that the light was gone! They were only proof that we had learned how to carry it through the dark! And even then, after everything... we will still shine! We can let the darkness harden us Or we can learn to carry a softer kind of light Not the kind that blinds, not the kind that needs to be seen Just a quiet light—the kind that remains when no one is watching The kind that survives... even after everything has given us reasons to disappear Not because the world finally became gentle... But because it never managed... To take the light... from us.
