They say that time heals everything.
But time is no healer.
It is an old titan
that only casts its shadow over the wound
for a moment,
before it moves on
and leaves you alone
with the same burning point in your heart.

When thought returns
it finds the wound where it has always been,
open like a gate,
alive like a fire,
as if the first day
had never ended.

A loss does not disappear.
It becomes a companion,
a shadow that walks beside you
through the seasons,
through all the gates of the world.
You do not learn to forget –
you learn to carry,
to breathe with the pain,
to rise
even though the ground trembles.

And it is not time that does this.
It is you.
It is your strength,
your stubborn continuing pulse,
your refusal to fall apart
even though the heart remembers everything.

This is how heroes are made.
Not in victory,
but in survival.