“The Curve That Bends the World”
A smile—a curve so soft, so slight,
Yet strong enough to stir the night.
It speaks in tongues no words can know,
A flame where colder winds won’t blow.
It rises not from perfect days,
But carves through pain in quiet ways.
A whisper in the storm’s loud roar,
A knock of hope at sorrow’s door.
The tired soul, the stranger near,
May find in it a moment clear—
A glance, a grin, the world made kind,
If only for a breath in time.
It costs us nothing, weighs us less,
Yet buys a wealth of gentleness.
The bridge we build, the wound we seal,
With something we don’t have to feel—
Just choose.
For smiling isn't just delight,
It’s how the heart resists the night.
A silent vow that we are here,
Together—braver than our fear.
So smile not only when you must,
But when the skies are gray with dust.
It may not fix what’s torn apart—
But it’s a thread, and that's a start.
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