Things Will Happen

Each dawn, I rise, driven by the fire within,

Taught that idle hands reap only barren wind.

I strive for excellence, my heart's relentless quest,

Yet, like a pin dropped in the ocean's vast unrest.

Results fade, like ripples on the waves above,

"Not my day," I whisper, solace in self-love.

My stomach growls, hunger's persistent call,

My heart echoes, yearning for success's thrall.

But today, a glimmer, rays of light ascend,

My toil, soon crowned with triumph's sweet end.

I'm alive! We rise, we fall, yet still we stand,

Now, I ascend, my spirit, unbroken hand.

For every drought, a harvest awaits,

Every night, a dawn that breaks.

There are decades where nothing happens,

And there are weeks where decades happen.

FERT