As Seasons Fade: On Helping Others and Finding Meaning

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🌿 Poem

As Seasons Fade

The seasons of people once circled my days,
each reason, each moment, a light on the way.
But time shifts its rhythm, the visits grow few,
the circle grows smaller, the sky turns a new hue.

Confusion drifts in like a fog on the hill,
questions grow quiet, yet the heart lingers still.
The answer I find is not waiting to come,
but living as one who can give, not just some.

For when I extend what is steady, what’s true,
I place part of myself in another life too.
It’s helping, not waiting, that clears out the gray,
a hand to another keeps the night far away.

✍️ Reflection

A poem of a similar name once gave me a framework: people arrive for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. That idea shaped how I looked back on my own story.

But as I look forward, I realize the seasons change differently now. Fewer people enter, and that’s natural. What matters is not whether they come—but whether I still reach out. When we help others, we become part of their story. We leave something of ourselves in their lives.

Maybe the lesson is this: meaning doesn’t just arrive; it’s made in the moments when we step forward, give of ourselves, and refuse to let life simply happen to us.