What grows too fast may fade in haste —
But what grows slow takes deeper space.
It builds its roots below the frost,
And doesn't care what time has lost.
What stays in silence isn't dead —
It holds its tongue, but holds its thread.
The quiet is not empty air —
It's where the real learns to prepare.
What looks like pause — a break, a gap —
Is often the most sacred map.
The movement that you cannot see
Is where your future learns to be.
So don't regret the waiting years,
The wordless hours, the hidden tears.
The slow, the still, the mute, the deep —
Are not a loss. They are the keep.
Slow Growth
© Copyright: Евгеша Семёнова, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126042205487
Свидетельство о публикации №126042205487
Рецензии