This story is poor folk
Put In a village shadowed by rugged mountains, there lived a young man named Zayn. He had dreams in his heart, but fear and doubt haunted him again and again. One evening as the sun was setting behind the mountains, the village's old storyteller gathered the youths around a burning fire. His eyes, which were as sharp as the wind, stayed on Zain and he said things that touched Zain's heart. "Be careful, Zane," he said, his voice both serious and loving. "Don't sit idly and get used to rest. If you give in to weakness or fear, you will give up your field to someone else, and see your dreams fall from your hands like sand." Zane's heart sank. He knew how many nights he had been robbed of by frivolities and fleeting pleasures. The storyteller's eyes held him. Don't get involved in meaningless things, he urged. Daya, to make yourself strong. Don't lose yourself. Zen, your thoughts will begin to wither. But if you don't give in, the plant will grow stronger than before. The fire flashed. He remembered the moments when he had faltered, when desperation had encouraged him to surrender. But the storyteller's voice broke through his fear. This was not a time for despair, nor weakness, nor giving up on futility. She came closer, her words a spark of hope in Zane's heart. It's time to make yourself strong, as the world waits for no one. As the fire flickers in the sky, the burden of doubt is replaced by a silent determination. He stands tall in front of the flames, ready to rise. Strong, fearless and invincible and in that moment under the wide sky Zayn vowed that he would be like a green tree - rooted in purpose, flourishing in every stor#BinanceAlphaAlert #DinnerWithTrump #SaylorBTCPurchase #MyEOSTrade $BTC $ETH $SOL
