Priyanka Jalan

The Hands That Lift

Do not hasten toward the mighty;

if your feet must choose a path,

let them find the humble.

The tallest cedar greets the sun alone,

while the bending reed

welcomes every passing breeze.

Grandeur too often awakens pride,

placing upon the heart

a crown too heavy for the soul.

Yet vanity vanishes

like dew before the dawn.

Go where hope has nearly faded.

Be the lamp

that gently scatters darkness,

the quiet rain

that restores a thirsting field.

Heaven remembers

not those who exalted power,

but those who silently

lifted another from despair.

The Eternal walks unseen,

clothed in worn garments,

dwelling among trembling voices

and forgotten eyes.

Stand beside the fragile,

and silence becomes a prayer.

Lift the fallen,

and kindness becomes a hymn.

A heart shaped by mercy

knows no true defeat.

It becomes a sanctuary

where grace blossoms without end.

Choose compassion over greatness,

humility over honor,

love over applause.

For the surest path to God

is never the staircase of the proud,

but the quiet road

that leads to the lonely.

Date- 1/8/26

Written by- Priyanka Jalan