I never wore the crown of “rare”
Just stayed persistent, curious, aware.
Adaptable, willing to stumble and learn,
Through wrong-way turns and a few U-turns.
The path was seldom a perfect design,
Yet each misstep drew a sharper line.
I found small truths where the big ones hide,
And learned to keep both grit and pride.
The world will bend, but so will I,
Meeting each question with a “why not try?”
If there’s a crown I’ve come to own,
It’s built from lessons I’ve carved in stone.
No gilded throne, no easy acclaim,
Just quiet resolve through joy and strain.
The rarest gift I’ve come to see is the will to shape what’s meant to be.
So here I stand, not seeking a throne,
But steady in ground I’ve made my own.
If life’s a maze with a shifting chart,
I’ll find the exit by making new starts.
POETRY 