Lost Days

The world may shake, the storms may rise,

The weight of loss may cloud your skies.

But fate is not a heavy chain,

Unless you choose to call it pain.

For trials knock on every door,

Yet not all bow—some rise once more.

The past may whisper, fear may shout,

But you decide what life's about.

Your word, your trust, the way you stand—

Not shaped by fate, but by your hand.

For strength is built where courage stays,

Not in the echoes of lost days.

Let not the world define your name,

Nor hardship be your endless frame.

You are not what they have done,

But what you choose—a setting sun,

Or rising light, a fire bright,

A victor standing in the night.