To bloom, we borrow rain and sun,
the gentle yes, the hard-won one.
From honeyed praise to sharper tone,
each word becomes a stepping stone.
A kind remark can warm the day,
a careful truth can shape our way.
For light alone is thin and brief—
depth is born from shadowed grief.
Without the fall, we fear the height;
without the night, we miss the light.
So let all voices, soft or stern,
be notes through which our spirits learn
A flower opens, calm and slow,
not caring who may come or go.
It drinks the light, it bears the rain,
and turns all weather into gain.