Enter the Words.

Facedown

I drowned in the pain,
a puddle in the rain
I was forced to play in,
now I'm facedown in.

Breathing mud,
tasting blood,
asking God if this is punishment
or just what living does.

I tried standing tall,
but tall men still fall,
and pride doesn't soften the ground
when you've given your all.

So I stayed there.

Facedown.

Not dead-
just tired of proving
I was alive.

Tired of carrying storms
like they were mine to survive.
Tired of saying I'm fine
when fine was a lie
I had told for so long
even I believed it sometimes.

Then you found me.

Didn't pull me up.
Didn't tell me to fight.
Didn't hand me another reason
I had to make everything right.

You just laid beside me
in the rain.

And for once,
someone didn't ask me
to explain the pain.

You let the water fall.
Let me curse it all.
Let me be something other
than the man who catches everyone
when they fall.

And somewhere between
the thunder
and your hand finding mine,

I realized-

maybe rock bottom
isn't always where we die.

Sometimes it's where we finally stop
long enough
to look at the sky.

So I rolled over.

Rain still falling.
Pain still calling.

Nothing magically healed,
nothing suddenly right-

but there you were,

and somehow the darkness
didn't feel quite as much
like night.

I had drowned in the pain,
a puddle in the rain
I was forced to play in-

but I won't stay facedown in it.

Because you taught me
something the storm never could:

getting back up
isn't pretending
the fall didn't hurt.

It's knowing it did-

and rising

anyway.

You.

You the reason I breathe,
the reason I'd bleed,
and the reason I need
to be a better man,
and be settled and comfortable
when the chaos swirls-
from the wind
to the world.

You.

The quiet in a life
that learned to speak in storms.
The hand I reach for
when everything I've carried
becomes too heavy
to pretend it weighs nothing.

You don't stop the rain.

You make me forget
that I'm wet.

You don't silence the thunder.

You remind me
that noise isn't always something
I have to fight.

Because I've fought.

God, I've fought.

I've fought battles
that weren't mine,
wars that had no winners,
and people I loved
as though loving them meant
I had to survive them.

I've mistaken scars
for medals,
exhaustion for strength,
and standing alone
for standing tall.

Then-

You.

You walked into the wreckage
without asking me
who started the fire.

You didn't demand
that I rebuild myself
before I deserved your warmth.

You simply stayed.

And somewhere between
your laughter
and the way you say my name,

I started wondering
whether a man can spend
so much of his life surviving
that he forgets
he was supposed to live.

So I want to live.

Not forever.

Just long enough.

Long enough to grow old
beside you.

Long enough for these hands,
so accustomed to fists,
to forget what they were
ever fighting for.

Long enough to learn
that peace isn't surrender.

That softness isn't weakness.

That a man can lay down his sword
without losing his name.

And if tomorrow comes angry,
let it.

If the wind tears through our world,
let it howl.

If everything I've built
comes crashing to the ground,

I'll build again.

But this time—

not an empire.

Not a fortress.

Not walls tall enough
to keep the whole world out.

I'll build a home.

And I'll leave the door unlocked
because you'll be there.

You.

The reason I breathe.

The reason I'd bleed.

But more importantly-

the reason I'm finally learning

that maybe
I don't have to.

If the sky ever fell,
I'd fall with you,
or so I hope.

You're heaven on Earth,
and I want to be where you are.

I've seen the dark
and prayed for light,
so now that I've found it,
I'll not let go without a fight
that exhausts my mind,
my body,
and my might.

For I have learned
that heaven is not somewhere
waiting beyond the clouds.
Sometimes heaven breathes beside you,
sleeps beside you,
laughs from another room,
and asks nothing more
than to be loved
without being lost.

And I have lost enough.

Enough years.
Enough pieces of myself.
Enough nights bargaining with tomorrow
for one more chance
to make today mean something.

So if the stars go dark,
let them.

If the mountains crumble,
let them fall.

If the oceans rise
to swallow every road
that ever promised us escape,
take my hand.

I have spent too much of my life
surviving things
I thought would kill me
to be frightened now
of dying beside something
worth living for.

But perhaps that is the danger.

I have always mistaken love
for something worth bleeding for,
mistaken devotion for endurance,
and endurance for proof.

Perhaps heaven does not need defending.
Perhaps love was never asking me
to destroy myself
to prove that it was real.

So if the sky ever falls,
I will not hold it up alone.

I will not break my back
beneath the weight of heaven
just to say I saved it.

I'll reach for you.

And if you reach for me,
we'll stand as long as we can.

And when we cannot-

then let the whole damned sky fall.

Let kingdoms disappear.
Let victories lose their names.
Let history forget
who conquered whom.

Because if the last thing left
in this collapsing world
is your hand inside mine,

I will have finally learned
the difference

between a battle worth winning

and a love
worth losing everything for.

What I Want for You

I want you to work hard,
but never so hard
that your body becomes the price
of your ambition.

I want you to dream big,
but never measure your worth
by titles,
money,
degrees,
promotions,
or applause.

Achieve things.

Great things, if you can.

But know that I was proud of you
before you ever accomplished
a damn thing.

I want you to help people.

Give.

Be generous.

Be the person who reaches back
when someone else is struggling
to climb.

But you do not have to carry everyone.

Some people will hand you their weight
and call it love.

You are allowed
to hand it back.

I want you to know when to leave.

A job.
A friendship.
A relationship.
A dream that became a nightmare.

Anything that demands
everything you have
and returns almost nothing
is allowed to end.

Leaving does not always mean
you quit.

Sometimes leaving means
you finally chose yourself.

I want you to rest.

Without explaining why.

Without earning it first.

Without lying in bed
making a list of all the things
you should be doing instead.

The world will still be there
when you wake up.

I promise.

And you will fail.

God, I hope you fail sometimes.

Because I don't want you
so afraid of disappointing me
that you spend your whole life
only attempting things
you already know you can do.

Fail spectacularly.

Call me.

We'll figure it out.

But never mistake
I failed
for
I am a failure.

And never believe
you failed this family.

You couldn't.

You are this family.

Most of all,

I don't want you to inherit
the belief that life
is something you endure.

I don't want you waking every morning
already exhausted
by everything expected of you.

I don't want survival
to become such a habit
that one day you look around
and realize
you forgot to live.

Build something different.

Build a life with mornings
you don't dread.

Find work that leaves
something of you
for the people waiting at home.

Laugh loudly.

Take vacations.

Waste an afternoon.

Fall ridiculously in love.

Change your mind.

Start over.

Sit outside when the weather is beautiful
even when there's work to do.

And when life inevitably becomes hard,
be strong.

But please-

don't become so good
at surviving hell
that you start calling it home.

I spent much of my life learning
how much a person can carry.

What I want for you
is simpler.

I want you to learn
how much you can put down.

And if everything I have done
means that you get to live
a little more gently
than I did,

then none of it
was wasted.

Take My Smile With You

And someday,
when I cannot walk beside you anymore,
don't carry my absence
heavier than you carried my love.

Take my smile with you
even when I'm gone.

Keep it somewhere
between the memories
that make you laugh
and the ones that make you cry.

And when you think of me,
don't think only of the man
who worked,
who worried,
who fought,
who carried more than he should.

Remember that I smiled.

And know
you were the reason.

The purpose.
The pleasure.
The joy.
The bliss.

Not the things I owned.
Not the things I built.
Not whatever name
the world remembers
or forgets.

You.

You were the part
that mattered.

So when my chair is empty,
when my voice exists only
in the corners of your memory,
when you would give anything
for one more conversation-

don't spend that conversation
telling me you miss me.

Tell me what you did.

Tell me where you went.

Tell me who you loved.

Tell me about the chances you took,
the mistakes you made,
the ridiculous things you laughed about
until you couldn't breathe.

Tell me you rested.

Tell me you walked away
when staying cost too much.

Tell me you failed
and got back up
without once believing
you disappointed me.

Tell me you built a life
you didn't need to escape from.

Because then I'll know
everything I tried to teach you
finally made sense.

And wherever I am-
if anywhere at all-

I'll be smiling.

So take my smile with you
even when I'm gone.

Wear it when life is beautiful.

Borrow it
when life is cruel.

And if someday
you catch yourself smiling
for no reason at all,

maybe that's me.

Or maybe
it's simply the piece of me
that I always hoped
I'd leave behind.

You.