Defying Defeat

Beware the weight you carry in silence — it shapes you louder than words.

Some seasons don’t ask. They just take.
The branch doesn’t choose to drop its leaves.
The tide doesn’t ask before it pulls away.
Even the stars disappear without witness.

We call it letting go, but often, it’s simply being undone.

And still—there is space.
Not mercy, not reward. Just space.

Not the kind you decorate, but the kind you survive.
The kind that waits, quiet and unpromising, until something truer begins to press against its edges.

So, ask yourself:
What have you outgrown but still carry?
And what truth — raw, unpolished — keeps pressing to be exposed and healed,
even as you resist it?