The winds gather,
wild and heavy,
a storm that looks like it came to break you.
But the eagle knows better.

It faces the rising dark,
opens its wings,
and lets the very force meant to push it down
lift it higher.

Up through the roar,
up through the trembling sky,
up where the light waits untouched —
it climbs, not by escaping the storm,
but by using it.

This is the promise:
that strength is born in the wind,
that faith grows in the pressure,
that you rise most
when everything says you shouldn’t.

Mount up.
Let the storm be your ladder.
There is a place above it
where the sun still burns bright
and your spirit flies free