The world holds its breath for the ones who walk gently,
weavers of warm mornings, fixers of torn hours.
Love doesn’t rise on its own, someone warms the bowl,
someone kneads the moment till the daylight flowers.

Admiration is a lantern, but goodwill is the wood.
One glows bright for a heartbeat, one survives the storm for good.

And brilliance alone is a ghost without a door.
But hands, only hands, can open anything and more.

So lay your kindness down, one stone then another,
build the place where hearts learn how to stay.
Good in the right hand, better in the left,
pour out the light till the shadows fade away.
The goodwill of people is the warmth we make together,
lanterns burning low but outliving all the rain.

Courtesy is a quiet spell, soft witchcraft of the wise,
telling wolves to rest their teeth, lifting weary eyes.
A bowed head is a spark, a gentle ember offered,
mercy chosen once can echo through a lifetime after.

Words follow swords, they say, but truer is the time
you lay the blade aside and choose to build another life.

For pens and shadows follow the deeds that come before.
Write kindness in your actions and the ink remembers more.

So lay your kindness down, one stone then another,
build the place where hearts learn how to stay.
Good in the right hand, better in the left,
pour out the light till the shadows fade away.
The goodwill of people is the warmth we make together,
lanterns burning low but outliving all the rain.

Somewhere in the quiet, someone blooms because of you.
Not loud, not seen, just watered by a moment true.
Ink is a patient sorcerer, it resurrects the gentle.
History turns its head for the ones who hold the door.

So lay your kindness down, one stone then another,
build the place where hearts learn how to stay.
Hands that offer mercy teach the world to breathe again,
lanterns of goodwill are the light that beats the rain.
And if you love, love in such a way
the world forgets who started it
only that warmth that entered the room.