There will be days we forget,
The vows we whispered to the dawn,
When virtue feels a distant debt,
And all our better selves are gone.
The path we walked with steadfast grace
Grows faint beneath the weight of haste,
And shadows creep to take the place
Where light once burned with purpose chaste.
Yet still, the heart remembers true,
The kindness sown, the love held dear,
The discipline that shaped us through
Each faltering and doubt-filled year.
For though the mind may lose its way,
The soul still knows the creed it keeps:
To rise, though storms may lead astray,
To sow though barren are the steeps.
So, when forgetfulness draws near,
And all our truths seem worn and thin,
Let practice call the core back clear
Begin again, and start anew.