try again — and yet again, once more,
knock on the same unyielding door.
the path remembers every tread,
each bruise a word unsaid, unread.

each stumble is a quiet plea,
a lesson wrapped in gravity.
the ground may claim you for a breath,
but not your will, and not your depth.

again, again — the pulse insists,
a drumbeat in unbroken wrists.
in ribs that ache yet still expand,
in trembling feet that choose to stand.

the road may twist, the sky may sneer,
the miles grow long, the summit unclear.
but courage is a climbing vine
that finds its hold through rock and spine.

each effort plants a hidden seed
in soil enriched by doubt and need.
a stubborn bloom splits stone apart
and roots itself inside the heart.

though night may stretch its shadow wide
and whisper, “turn away, go hide,”
the faithful flame you guard within
keeps watch until the light seeps in.

for dawn is not a sudden blaze
it’s earned in quiet, stubborn ways.
and those who rise when hope seems gone
are crowned in gold by coming dawn.