One More Good Thing

The page spoke low beside the flame,
Add one more good thing before you sleep.
Small mercies never ask for fame,
Yet altered hearts still grow from deep.

A tired mind counts every scar,
Then trains itself to count one grace.
The soul heals slower than we are,
But steady hope still shifts a place.

The cup stayed warm. The room stayed still.
Leaves watched the silence climb the air.
Peace never bends to an iron will;
It forms when care meets honest care.

No thunder cracked the weight apart,
No sermon cured the inward ache.
One gentle thought re-tuned the heart,
One kinder choice revised the break.

The journal held what pride concealed,
A fear of wasting borrowed years.
Yet sentence after sentence sealed
New ground above exhausted fears.

So let good things arrive unforced,
Like rain that feeds a waiting field.
The strongest lives are shaped by course,
Not by the wounds they once concealed.