Zebra Seeking Spoons

There are days when the air feels heavy

and each step asks more of you

than you think you can give.

You move anyway.

Not because it is easy,

not because you feel brave,

but because something inside you

refuses to let the story end here.

Persistence is quiet.

It rarely looks heroic.

It is the small decision

to keep your hands on the wheel

even when the road vanishes in fog.

It is the breath you take

after the one that almost broke you.

It is the moment you choose

to stand again,

even if you stand shaking.

You keep going

because some part of you

still believes in the possibility

of a sunrise you haven’t seen yet.

And that belief—

fragile, flickering, stubborn—

is enough to carry you

to the next moment,

and the next,

and the one after that.

This is what it means

to never give up:

not perfection,

not certainty—

just the simple, undeniable act

of continuing.