Making Our Way

He wakes before the noise,

the sky still thinking about morning.

Steam curls from his cup,

the first small promise of the day.

**

He scrolls, half here, half elsewhere,

searching for something that feels like purpose.

Maybe it’s in the work,

or the quiet moments no one sees.

**

He builds in silence—

from effort, from care, from the wish to do right.

Strength isn’t shouting;

it’s the steady breath after falling.

**

Some days he stands tall,

some days he just endures.

Both count.

**

He learns that being gentle

takes more courage than staying tough,

that doubt and hope

can live in the same heartbeat.

**

There’s no finish line,

only small victories,

like patience found,

kindness given,

a reason to try again.

**

And as the sun climbs higher,

he keeps walking—

not lost,

not perfect,

just human,

making his way

through the beautiful mess of being alive.