Each day is a lesson in scaffolding,
a blueprint inked not in muscle, but in meaning,
not in the rotation of earthbound limbs
but in the quiet stretch of spirit.
We are taught to chase what feeds the body—
bread broken, soft pillows, doors locked tight.
But the soul? It is lighter than hunger,
hungrier than flesh, more patient than time.
It waits in corners where sunlight bends,
in the silence between your breaths,
asking not for more, but for deeper.
Your life is an offering, whispered upward,
a choice to sandpaper the rough edges,
or let them splinter into the world.
Each act of good: a stone in the wall,
each selfish grasp: a crack in the glass.
God—often a word too heavy to hold—
watches like a gardener unafraid of dirt,
kneeling to see if you’ve chosen growth,
if you’ve turned your face to sun and sky.
This isn’t punishment, but promise—
a chance to build something eternal
with the transient days you’ve been given.
Your life\'s purpose: to train the soul to sing.