Here’s one for

Toil The long apprenticeship of discovering that very little can be controlled, And perhaps that is the joy of it. To wake and find there is still something worth attending to, someone worth knowing a little better, some small corner of the world that might be made kinder, some stubborn question not yet exhausted. Even grief asks something of us: to remember, to carry forward, to love what is gone without making absence the whole story. Time does not lighten the load so much as teach what is worth lifting. Still learning the weight of things, what to hold, what to release, and what remains a privilege to carry.