To refuse the change, to stand so still, Is to cast your lot, to bend your will. The path unaltered, the choice you make, A silent vow you cannot shake. Each moment paused, each chance denied, Is a door you’ve closed, a tide you’ve tied. Inaction whispers, loud and clear, "I choose this now, I hold it near." For even silence speaks its part, A quiet echo from the heart. To refuse the shift, to let it be, Is to say, "This is enough for me." poetry