Measured in pockets of kindness, this year would have merit—
The seeds you harvested without a memory of sowing
The people who waved their goodbyes from a distance,
And those who stood close,
So you could mistake your stumbling for leaning.
If you were brave enough to roll out a measuring tape—
If God invented one just for this,
To teach you the breadth and width of favours—
It would still be a mystery.
A phone call just in time.
How the unplanned moments dug a well,
And you drew hope from famished places.
Kindness didn’t announce itself.
It is a steady grip as you teeter.
Seat reserved in a full room.
The pause before the storm breaks.
Warmth offered without words.
And yet, you carry it with you.
Ignoring the scuff marks left behind,
From where you stumbled toward the exit signs.
Every act of contrition—a gentle opening
Measured in pockets of kindness,
You learn some years are not saved by triumphs,
But salvaged by love—
the quiet persistence
of hands stitching together what was torn,
A steady pulse keeping the heart from breaking.
Thank you for always listening, reading… See you in 2025!
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