when patience thins
Patience is a quiet thread,
Woven through hearts, someone said,
Strong as stone, yet soft as air,
A fragile grace that’s always there.
It bends, it waits, it does not break,
Yet cracks may form when storms awake.
A steady hand, a mindful breath,
A dance with time, to life or death.
In its slow burn, we find our way,
But lose it all if it should fray.
A virtue firm, yet rare, it’s true—
Patience can be both old and new.
Poetry by arquious
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Written on 2024-11-12 at 08:24
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France England |
France England |