Wisdom is not in the lines that we read,
Nor etched in the bark of an old, fallen seed.
It dwells in the silence between every goal—
A whisper, a flame, a part of your soul.
Not earned by the clock or the weight of your years,
But shaped in your laughter, your questions, your tears.
It grows in the quiet, where still waters roll—
A river that runs through the heart of your soul.
It’s not just in answers, but knowing the cost
Of learning through love, through failure, through loss.
It shines in the dark when you’ve lost all control,
Yet still feel the pulse of truth in your soul.
No crown, no degree, no power or fame
Can kindle that light or carry its flame.
For wisdom is humble, and always feels whole—
Because it was born in the depths of your soul.
Thank-you for reading.
Remember there are many paths back to God.
Follow your own path,
Brenda Marie
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