Chapter 30
Always Rising
No matter how low the sun dips or how dark the night, I wake each morning seeking back the light. I never stay bowed longer than I must, rising above the worry and the dust. Every new day is a fresh golden start — always rising, from the ground, from the heart.
No matter how low the sun dips or how dark the night,
I wake each morning seeking back the light.
I never stay bowed longer than I must,
rising above the worry and the dust.
Surrounded by faces, yet I climb alone,
turning each trial into stepping‑stone.
When rain has washed the heavy soil anew,
I stretch my stem toward the clearer blue.
Every new dawn is a fresh golden start —
pulled from deep roots, lifted from the heart.
I grow a little taller, brighter, stronger still,
proof that my spirit never knows to chill.
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