There is Always Opposition
No motion starts without a force,
No river runs a straight-line course,
For every step that you intend,
The universe will make you bend.
It is the law, ancient and deep,
That promises no easy sleep;
From atoms spinning in the void
To empires built and then destroyed,
In every breath and every plan,
In every heart of every man,
The truth remains, distinct and clear:
The Opposition is always here.
I. The Physical Weight
Observe the stone upon the hill,
It sits in silence, cold and still.
To move it requires strain and sweat,
A physical and heavy debt.
For Gravity, that jealous king,
Lays claim to every living thing.
It pulls us down, it holds us tight,
It creates the heavy, weary night.
To stand upright is to defy
The very earth, the very sky.
The friction on the moving wheel,
The rust that eats the strongest steel,
The wind that beats against the face—
Resistance fills all time and space.
There is no vacuum perfect, pure,
Where unstopped motion can endure.
The air itself is like a wall,
Waiting for the weak to fall.
But mark this truth within the gale:
Without the wind, no ship can sail.
The very force that stops the way
Is what allows the bird of prey
To catch the draft and soar on high,
To pin its wings against the sky.
The plane requires the drag to lift,
The opposition is the gift.
II. The Natural War
The seed lies buried in the dark,
Without a flame, without a spark.
The soil is heavy, cold, and black,
A crushing weight upon its back.
To reach the sun, the sprout must fight,
Must push with all its tiny might
Against the dirt that packs it in,
A battle it is destined to win
Only if it breaks its shell,
And rises from that earthen cell.
If earth gave way and offered room,
The flower would encounter doom;
For in the struggle to break through,
It gains the strength to drink the dew.
The wolf must hunt the fleet-footed deer,
Driven by hunger, devoid of fear.
The deer must run to save its breath,
A jagged dance of life and death.
If food were free and safety sure,
The wolf’s sharp senses would distinct obscure.
If predators were stripped away,
The herd would weaken and decay.
The tension strings the biological bow,
It is the way the living grow.
III. The Social Tide
Step forth with vision in your eyes,
And watch the wall of critics rise.
Declare a truth, speak out a dream,
And swim against the current stream.
The moment that you separate
From standard thought and standard fate,
The crowd will turn, the voices harsh,
To pull you back into the marsh.
"It can’t be done," the cynics cry,
"Don’t dare to fail, don’t dare to try."
Tradition guards the ancient gate,
And fears the new, and guards the state.
For humans fear the shifting sand,
They crave the firm and steady land.
So when you shake the status quo,
Expect the gale, expect the blow.
The artist painting something new,
The scientist with different view,
The leader walking paths unknown—
They walk the rocky road alone.
Jealousy will rear its head,
To wish your bold ambitions dead.
Misunderstanding weaves its net,
To catch the sun you haven't set.
But diamonds form beneath the crush,
And masterpieces in the hush
Of lonely hours and fighting doubt,
Until the inner truth comes out.
IV. The Enemy Within
But worst of all the foes you find,
Are those that live within the mind.
The world may shout and bar the door,
But your own heart can hurt you more.
The Opposition sits inside,
With nowhere left for you to hide.
It is the whisper: "Are you sure?"
It is the illness with no cure.
Imposter syndrome, fear, and guilt,
Upon which all our doubts are built.
The lazy comfort of the bed,
The logic of the fearful head,
The memories of failures past,
The shadows that the ego cast.
To write the book, to run the mile,
To greet the morning with a smile,
Requires a war with your own soul,
To take the fragments and make whole.
Discipline is but a fight
Against the dying of the light,
Against the urge to quit and rest,
To settle for the second best.
V. The Forge of Meaning
Why must it be this rugged way?
Why not a soft and easy day?
Why must we struggle, sweat, and bleed,
To harvest fruit from planted seed?
Because a life without a wall,
Is not a life, in truth, at all.
If muscles never felt the tear,
They’d wither in the empty air.
If minds were never challenged deep,
They’d atrophy and fall asleep.
The Opposition is the stone
On which the blade of self is honed.
The friction is the vital heat,
Making the victory complete.
We define ourselves by what we face,
Not by the safety of our space.
The hero needs the dragon’s fire,
To realize their true desire.
The light requires the dark to shine,
The grape requires the crush for wine.
So do not curse the blocking wall,
Do not resent the chance to fall.
Do not despise the heavy load,
Or curse the steep and rocky road.
For in the pushing back, you find,
The strength of body, heart, and mind.
The wind is strong, the mountain tall,
But you are built to face it all.
Embrace the storm, the toil, the spin—
For Opposition lets you win.
