Change

We've learned the code of counterfeit compassion,
To care with souls that never stir or feel.
Our speech flows smoothly, void of any passion,
And leaves us in a mute, unvisited retreat.

Yes, I admit: the force of sudden changes
Can crush us like an avalanche so wild.
Yet we emerge from deepest, darkest mazes
The moment we agree to step beyond the old routine.

The outward push is just a fleeting flood,
But seismic shifts must happen deep inside the mind.
The soul falls ill not from the storm or mud,
But from the lock that keeps it caged and blind.

Don't speak of fearing to disturb another's calm,
When you yourself are shivering in the frost.
To work on self is learning how to shed
The heart's old habit — hiding in fading mirages.

It all begins with knowing, sharp and true:
I chose the road and made the step I chose,
Without excuses, without any delay,
With zigzags as my only guide, I know.

It's hard to write upon the living, real,
With lines so strange, so foreign to my hand,
To walk a path I carve with will and steel,
And leave the vices weighing down my hand.

New changes will arrive, I understand,
And lessons will demand their heavy toll.
Each trade-off grows heavier to bear,
For choices that shorten life's long road.

Евгений Грибкова
2026 год
По стихам:
http://stihi.ru/2026/08/02/4285