I built a booming business,
poured every hour into its fire.
If I could, I would have worked without end—
but my body whispered of ruin.
I was my own jailer,
walls of the office my cell.
Fast food was my daily prayer,
and sleep a forgotten friend.
One day the body struck back—
I fell beneath the weight of neglect.
Friends carried me to white corridors,
machines humming, screens glowing,
a long list of shadows inside me.
The doctor spoke of death approaching,
a road I could not keep walking.
He sent me to a healer of lives,
who rewrote my days with gentler ink.
I followed her wisdom,
and slowly the mirror changed.
Strength returned like spring rain,
in six months, I was reborn.
Yes, money builds towers,
but health and family are the ground.
I learned this truth in pain:
rest, breathe, and cherish more.
Sit with those you love,
eat with balance, move with joy.
Your happiness is your own harvest—
tend the soil, and the body will bloom.
