Healing’s Compounding Effect
Fifty-two weeks, the cycle turns, Each scar a lesson, each ache that burns. A year of growth, a time to mend, The soul finds strength where shadows bend. The fifty-third dawn, a choice appears, To build on wisdom from the fading years. Roll over your healing, let it expand, A compounding force, like grains of sand. Each tear that fell now waters roots, Pain transforms to tender shoots. The echo of hurt fades with grace, As healing's light takes its place. Decide anew, with courage vast, To compound the lessons of the past. For every year, the cycle is clear— Healing grows stronger when we persevere.
