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It is Time
Open the door, not with force,
not with the trembling fist
of someone demanding to be seen.
Open it gently.
The hinges of the world
turn on small mercies.
Kindness is not a grand cathedral
built of heroic deeds.
It is a key. Small, quiet, easily lost
in the pockets of our rushing days.
But place it in the lock
of another human heart
and watch what happens.
A room opens. Light enters places
that have not known morning
for years.
We are told power lives
in conquest, in the loud arrival,
in the triumphant voice
that fills the room.
But the truest strength is softer.
It is the extra moment
you give someone when patience
would be easier to withhold.
It is the gentle word offered when
judgment is waiting on the tongue.
It is the courage to give a little more
of your attention, your warmth,
your humanity.
Giving is not depletion.
It is the strange mathematics
of the heart, the more it pours,
the more it holds.
And somewhere along the path
of these quiet offerings,
empathy begins to grow.
Not as a lesson, not as an idea,
but as a bridge between two souls
who suddenly remember
they are not alone here.
Then the hero appears, not in armour,
not carrying victory in his hands,
but simply standing in the doorway
he opened for someone else,
holding the light a little longer,
so another heart
can find its way through.
