Unfinished Manuscript

I have spent a lifetime reading the finished chapters of others, measuring my worth against stories already bound, while forgetting I, too, remain an unfinished manuscript. Every joy, every wound, every unanswered prayer is another sentence You refuse to waste. You began writing me long before I understood language, and even now Your hand has not left the page. When the final line is finally written, let it not be a record of survival alone, but of a soul that chose freedom over fear, truth over comfort, and love over bitterness. May Your pen come to rest without regret, the ink exhausted only because nothing essential was left unsaid, and may eternity begin with the quiet smile of an Author satisfied with His work.