After a long road walked together,
we cross the finish line—yet, is it truly finished?
The toga, the finest robe I ever dreamed to wear,
brings an unsettling comfort, a weighted grace.
And now? What’s next for these uncertain souls,
silently screaming, reaching for dreams just out of sight?
I know now the battlefield lives in the mind—
and though everything moves forward while I stand still, it’s okay.
For not giving up is its own kind of living,
a steady, graceful drive through life.
So what follows this uncertainty?
Perhaps it is the quest for identity,
to find a purpose worth pursuing,
to move, and keep moving.
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Poetry Threads
PuisiWords become voices-emotions unsaid, woven in threads of poetry. Feelings hold meanings, dreams unfurl, their echoes lingering, soft and surreal.
