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A stumble on the road, a fleeting fall,
A moment when your strength feels small,
But slips are whispers, not the end,
Just quiet turns where paths may bend.
The ground may shake beneath your feet,
And doubt may rise in slow defeat,
Yet every misstep, sharp and brief,
Still carries seeds of new belief.
For endings do not live in slips,
They fade before determined grips;
You rise, you learn, you try again
And write your story past the pain.
A momentary slip is not the end.Shalom.
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