We are but rough-hewn stones upon the shore,
Washed by the tides of ego and of fear,
Until we seek the hands that offer more
The steady hearts who hold the mirror near.
Seek out the ones whose fire burns bright and high,
Whose quiet wisdom thins the thickening fog;
In their reflection, shadows learn to die,
As we ascend the spirit’s rising rung.
But do not hoard the light you’ve fought to claim,
Or seal the well from which you’ve learned to drink.
For virtue is a flicker, not a flame,
If it should let a brother’s courage sink.
Reach down a hand to those who tread the night,
And offer up the truths you’ve come to know;
In teaching others how to find the light,
You find the very soil in which you grow.