The Trials of Doom

As if forsaken by my own shadow,
My joy melts away like wax in a relentless fire.
I am cloaked in shame for the missteps I’ve made,
Feeling as though I am of no consequence.

I sob in the abyss of solitude,
Hiding in the darkest crevices.
I press myself into an empty shell,
Desperately yearning for someone to recognize my anguish.

In my own melancholy, I witness others’ sorrows.
All that was once treasured is now enveloped in obscurity.
I see the valorous weep,
The jubilant frown,
The sagacious grapple with isolation,
And the robust confront their own frailties.

Through the murk of my grief,
I peer at my shadow.
Even as they struggle, they offer me strength.
Their presence compels me not to surrender, for failure is not a measure of my value.

In each gaze that mixes comfort with pity,
I await the recognition of those who will see me.
I fear not the fall but the silence of being unseen.
For my existence finds meaning only through where my soul has been

My solitude and sorrow weave strength into the hearts of others, igniting a spark of courage where comfort is needed. Even in their own need, they choose to uplift others, finding companionship in shared pain.

A woman, exiled and scorned by her people, once said, “Believe in yourself, and you shall triumph. Defy the doubters, for one day you will ascend to the stars, and your name will shine as brightly as the sun’s rays.” I realized that such words are often the mirror of our own deepest needs.

As I dwell in the depths of my shadow,

Each person I meet reveals
That in our sorrow, we become more attuned
To the shadows of others.

Cause we all seek a common refuge when we weep.
AS each of us craves to be valued and seen.