The Dawn is Mine
I wake .... matatus cough the city awake, light cracks the tin roofs, and I count the coins like prayers. It seems like my dawn will never rise to greet me like before; the sun looks the same, but I feel older, dreams slipping through my fingers like sand. As I grow older, so does my dream age from my grasp What was bright at twenty feels distant at thirty, and the map I drew in my head is missing roads. If dreams were valid ... if they had to be justified .. what should I do to achieve them? Answer me? Listen ... I’ve learned, the city does not give pity, it gives chances to those who keep knocking. So I stand, shoulders heavy but straight, I polish small wins like coins until they shine. I hustle with honor; I refuse the easy lie. I trade bitterness for plan: one small step, again and again. When doubt shouts, I shout back ... louder: I’m not finished. When hunger speaks in my bones, I feed my skill ...not just my belly. I barter time for knowledge, time for trust. I keep ...