Strive

It does not shout, it does not shake-

This thing that wakes me when I ache.

It walks beside, it does not speak,

And yet it pulls me toward the peak.

I do not know how far I'll go,

But Strive has set my soul aglow.

Strive-like a whisper kissed with flame.

Strive-when there's no one left to name.

It is the leap into the light,

The hush before the final fight.

Not glory loud, nor banners high-

But what remains when echoes die.

It is not pride, it is not fear.

It is the footfall drawing near.

It is the bridge from doubt to trust,

The motion born from sacred dust.

It is the kneeling, then the rise-

The wound that watches toward the skies.

Strive-when the tombstone still is sealed.

Strive-when the miracle's concealed.

The angel lifts, the stone rolls wide-

And what remains is Strive, inside.

It is the seed the storms defend-

The beginning that outlasts the end.

You thought the silence meant retreat...

But in the stillness, I pressed on.

You thought the dark had claimed defeat...

But I was striving all along.

Strive-like the breath before the flame.

Strive-like a heart that bears His name.

It is the proof I've known His light,

The unseen wings behind my fight.

To walk, to rise, to live, to give-

This is the reason I still strive.