Do the shoes take pride In their scuffed-up soles, Worn smooth by countless steps, Dancing through puddles, gravel, and life, Or do they envy the pristine pair, Still snug in their box, Untouched by dirt, but strangers to the journey? Do the books take pride In their creased spines and dog-eared pages, Marked by hands that lingered on every word, Their stories breathed into countless minds, Or do they envy the ones that gleam on the shelf, Unopened, their secrets locked away, Beautiful, yet unheard? Do the trees take pride In the branches they’ve lost to fierce winds, The scars that tell of storms survived, Each ring a chapter in their enduring tale, Or do they envy the young saplings, Perfect and whole, Untried by the seasons of life? Do the crayons take pride In their dulled-down tips, Worn by the hands of eager creators, Or do they envy the pristine few, Untouched and sharp, Standing tall in the box like guardians of perfection, Unfaded, unbroken, But yearning for the warmth of a child's grasp? Is it better to shine, Even if it means wearing thin, To be loved, even if it means breaking, To live fully, and leave behind a mark, Than to remain untouched, Perfect in form, but empty of story? For we don’t live if we don’t step out, Don’t know the wind unless we face it, Don’t feel the rain unless we weather it, Don’t grow unless we risk the fall. Life’s beauty lies in its wearing down, In the scars that sing of where we’ve been, In the cracks that let the light pour in. And perhaps that’s what life asks Not to be whole, but to be used. To give, to weather, to change. And let the rest remain unwritten, And maybe… that’s enough for us. |