pastel kindle
Beneath the sky of endless blue,
A tender dawn whispers, soft and new.
The year, a tapestry of scars and light,
Bows to the coming of another night.
Each wound, each ache, a story told,
Of battles fought and hearts consoled.
Yet here you stand, amidst the pain,
A phoenix rising from the flame.
Healing is not a sudden tide,
But rivers deep that slowly glide.
Through valleys dark and mountains steep,
Through restless nights and dreams that weep.
It’s in the silence, soft and still,
When the world bends to your iron will.
To mend what’s broken, to stitch the seams,
To reclaim the power within your dreams.
Healing is in the smallest things:
The songs the sparrows softly sing,
The brush of wind against your cheek,
The moments quiet, tender, meek.
It’s in the laughter, raw and free,
That breaks like waves upon the sea.
It’s in the love that finds its way,
Through cracks of grief, to light your day.
Let the new year be a gentle hand,
A steady guide, a fertile land.
Where seeds of hope are sown with care,
And blossoms bloom in open air.
Forgive the past, though it may sting,
Let go of ghosts to which you cling.
The weight of sorrow, the bitter rain,
Will only tether you to pain.
Embrace the flaws, the jagged scars,
They are your constellations, stars.
A map of where you’ve dared to go,
Proof of strength you didn’t know.
Step into the year with quiet grace,
Meet every shadow face to face.
For healing’s not a race you run,
It’s finding peace when the day is done.
So here’s to you, the one who tries,
To rise anew beneath the skies.
May the new year cradle your weary soul,
And guide you gently toward the whole.
Each breath, a promise, each step, a vow,
To honor the journey, here and now.
For healing’s a path that never ends,
But with each turn, a new light bends.
spare laurel