Unyielding Spirit
The sun beats down on his unyielding back,
as he stands tall, his eyes fixed on the horizon’s curve.
He’s weathered the storms, worn the rough edges smooth,
and emerged stronger, tempered like steel.
He knows the weight of his own name, the legacy he bears,
the burden of responsibility, the weight of his own desires.
He’s learned to bend, not break, to flex without yielding;
to find strength in the cracks and crevices.
His heart is a canvas, painted with the colors of his past,
but he’s not a slave to the brushstrokes, nor chained to the canvas.
He’s shattered the mirror of his doubts, letting shards fall away;
and now sees the world anew, unencumbered by yesterday’s weights.
He’s forged an iron will, a shield to deflect life’s arrows;
a beacon that guides him through treacherous terrain.
He’s walked through fire and brimstone, emerged scarred but unbroken;
his scars a testament to his unyielding spirit.
He’s found his purpose, like a compass pointing true north;
a magnet that draws him toward his heart’s desire.
He’s claimed his place in the world, staked out his territory;
and refuses to be swayed by life’s ebb and flow.
His eyes are fixed on the horizon, his gaze unwavering;
he knows that every step forward is a step toward his dreams.
He’s shedding the weight of fear, releasing the anchors of doubt;
and embracing the unknown with open arms.
For he knows that life is fleeting, and time is short;
and he’ll not waste another moment on uncertainty or despair.
He’ll grab onto life’s purpose with both hands, hold tight;
and ride the windward currents of his destiny.
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