The Persistent Teacher

In silent hours, shadows creep,

Of moments lost we failed to keep.

Choices made with trembling hands,

Still echo through life’s shifting sands.

The weight of what we could not do,

Hangs heavy in the morning dew.

A whispered name, a broken vow,

We face the mirror, furrowed brow.

But pain, though sharp, is not our foe—

It points the way we need to go.

A lantern in the darkest night,

It shows us wrong in search of right.

Regret’s a ghost with patient grace,

It waits until we turn and face

The truth we hid, the fear we fled,

The karmic path we’ve left unsaid.

Yet in that ache, a gift resides,

A compass where our wisdom hides.

For every scar that life imparts

Is etched to shape our deepest parts.

So gather strength, walk through the flame,

And call the lesson by its name.

For when we see with open eyes,

The soul begins to truly rise.

No longer chained by what we missed,

We meet the past with gentle fists.

And in that peace, we find the grace

To end the cycle, take our place.

The teacher fades, the debt is paid—

And in its place, the self remade.