A pulse rides steady in the pencil’s lead.
Never sigh, “I’m too tired to go on”—
press deeper.
Let the hunger in your hands
stir the marrow of your will.
Exalt the fight: one more day,
one more dawn—
who knows when the sky might fray?
Press deeper.
You live because you burn, not just endure.
Even your wounds are seeds—
so love the sweet sting, the sweat,
hoard your memories like gold.
Remember:
you’ve always been this brave.
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Author:
Mottakeenur Rehman (
Offline)
- Published: June 16th, 2025 12:47
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 12
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Poetic Licence
Comments3
(You live because you burn, not just endure.
Even your wounds are seeds—
so love the sweet sting, the sweat,
hoard your memories like gold.)
Lovely lines and a lovely poem a fave
Sir ,I am pleased to become a piece of fav ...Thank You🙏❤️🙏
Just simply wonderful and some amazing lines, very enjoyable read
Thank You Very Much❤️🙏❤️
You are very welcome
The final lines are especially powerful. "Even your wounds are seeds"-- what a perspective; to see pain not as something to avoid, but as something that will grow, transform, and add to the richness of life. There’s a deep trust in strength here, a reminder that courage isn’t something new—it’s something that has always existed within you. 🙏🏻🕊️
Thank you very much❤️🙏❤️
Most welcome MR🙏🏻🕊️
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