Poem: When All Is Sadness

Yes, dear one—

this sadness is real.

It seeps into bone and breath

like mist that does not ask permission.

To sit with it,

not as enemy

but as guest—

this is the beginning of wisdom.

It is not meaningless.

It is not forever.

It is a doorway

that opens only

when we stop trying to leave the room.

You are not alone in this ache.

Let it be what it is—

a cold seed

that in time,

and with kindness,

may flower into compassion.

🙏🕊🙏