The common things—
oh, how misunderstood.
Quiet kindness mistaken for smallness,
routine for emptiness,
stability for lack of fire.
We overlook the ordinary
until it’s gone—
the steady hand,
the familiar voice,
the moments that didn’t ask to be noticed
but held everything together anyway.
It’s always the simple things
that carry the most weight,
and somehow
the least applause.
Through the Fog 
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