There are always low points — quiet and deep,
Where laughter has left and the shadows sleep.
Where light feels distant, like stars out of reach,
And time drips slow with a lesson to teach.
The road folds inward, steeped in despair,
And you walk with a weight that no one can share.
Your voice may tremble, your spirit may bend,
Wondering when this silence will end.
But low points are valleys that cradle the soul,
Where healing begins and losses take toll.
They carve out the space for strength to arise,
For tears to wash truths, we try to disguise.
A mountain is nothing without the descent,
Each fall, each falter — a message is sent.
That rising means nothing without the fall,
And broken hearts still hear the call.
So when you are heavy, alone, or unheard,
Know pain has a purpose, though cruel and absurd.
There are always low points — yes, this is true —
But valleys still bloom, and so will you.
Thank-you for reading.
Much Love and Light,
Brenda Marie
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