A Heart Mends in Silence

Weep, if you must, for broken things,
For vanished dreams and severed wings;
But build no altar to your ache,
Nor let your tender spirit break.

The heart must shatter to be wise,
The soul must mourn to claim the skies;
Yet sorrow, though a heavy art,
Is but a season — not your heart.

So grieve, but do not make a throne;
You are not meant to live alone.
In loss, a gentler self is found —
And love, in time, will come around.