A giant rises — towering, proud, severe,
Yet check the sun before you yield to fear;
For oft a dwarf, by stretching out his hand,
Can throw a giant's shadow on the land.
It is not the wind that drives the course you sail;
The set of your own sails will tell the tale.
The storm may roar, the sky may fall to grey —
The sail decides if you advance or stray.
The clever man will not own every scar;
He learns from others' falls, both near and far.
Experience, a name for stumblings past,
Crowns every fool who stands and learns at last.
When winds of change blow fierce across the land,
Some build up walls, and some make mills by hand.
The same wild gust that shakes the stubborn stone
Can turn the willing wheel and drive it home.
So judge not size by what the eye can see;
Trim well your sails; let failure set you free.
When change draws near, build mills and not a wall —
The winds that break one man can lift us all.
Rolph David
Mon 5th May 2025 09:05
Thank you for your support and "like": Naomi, Manish, Flyntland, K. Lynn, Holden Aisha, Stephen, Uilleam, Hugh and Red B.
To Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh:
Thank you, Uilleam — your image of a simple sail carrying us across oceans beautifully echoes the spirit of the poem.
To Stephen Gospage:
I appreciate your kind words, Stephen. I'm glad it gave you something to reflect on.