Step by step,we move forward--
not always in straight lines,
not always with certainty.

The world builds and breaks,
then builds again,
each stone heavier
with memory.

There are days when the wind
pushes us back,
when the ground forgets
how to hold our feet.

But still,we carve new shapes
from the same old clay.
Still,we speak
as if tomorrow listens.

Reverse waits,quiet,
like water pulling at the shore.
It does not rage,
it simply persists.

And so must we--
not with fury,
but with the slow strength
of those who remember
why they began.