Before the sun sets

At the end of each day, when the world settles down And the stars take their places in a sky without sound I sit with myself, with no mask to defend, And question the person I have been to the end. Did I speak too much, reveal more than I should? Did I wound someone’s heart when I thought I was good? How many white lies did my tongue set free? How much of the world became lighter through me? Did I offer a hand when a soul needed saving? Or turn from a cry while my conscience lay waiting? Was I kind when it mattered, or kind when it paid? Did I bring someone sunshine, or deepen their shade? I retrace every word, every silence, each deed, The moments I gave, and the times I chose greed. For the tongue may forget what the heart has confessed, But the soul keeps a record of its own unrest. And perhaps that is life not perfection, but trying, Learning to be gentle, admitting when lying For we carry our flaws like a shadow we own, And sow seeds of regret in the hearts we have known I am only a human, with much left to learn, With bridges to build and some pages to turn I have been both the wound and the hand that could heal, Both the silence that hurt and the words that made real. And I know that tomorrow may find me the same, Still wrestling my nature, still bearing my name. But I pray that my errors won’t harden my heart, That I’ll know when to mend, when to listen, restart. So I ask myself questions as daylight grows dim, Not to drown in my faults, but to grow beyond them. For what good is a life if we never look through The eyes of the people we’ve spoken unto? And when my last sunset descends from above, May the sum of my days be a life shaped by love. Not a man who was flawless, nor one without blame, But one who kept trying to be better than he came. For the sun never asks if the day was enough It simply returns, though the night may be rough. And perhaps that is all that a human can do Let each setting sun leave a better self in view