I remember what I am: a soul that has chosen its direction before the storm began counting its waves. Therefore, I am not lost. I am exactly where the vow placed me.
I do not bend with the passing wind, nor break beneath the weight of falling skies. My spine is the mountain’s root, my breath the tide that does not ask permission to return.
When the world demands a frantic answer, I offer the quiet of deep stone. When chaos signs its name in screaming letters, I sign mine in the calligraphy of patience.
Ink of resolve, page of silence.