Handover

The dial still reads within its band The needle holds where it has learned The frame endures the passing years The rods still flex where force is turned The weight I once believed was mine Has always travelled through the span No single hand sustains the strain Of such a widening plan The pressure does not need a shout It moves in slower, quieter ways What stands is not the strike of will But what survives through days The weight redistributed Finds balance in the frame The change survives by settling Without the need for flame What moves too fast will tear apart What bends will always stand The future lives in measured pull From steadier hands I see it in his lifted chin The clarity behind his eyes The promise carried as if force Were equal to its size He speaks of levers yet untouched, Of motion waiting to begin I recognise the edge he holds I recognise what shaped me then The current gathers in his words The room leans in to hear He has not yet felt how the rods Will answer to the strain I rest my hand upon the steel Not to command, but guide The lever answers best when pulled With steadiness inside Not every bend is loss of will Not every pause is wrong The frame that yields protects the whole And lets the change grow strong The weight redistributed Now rests in younger hands The change is never lost - it moves As slowly as it stands The dial remains within its band But futures still begin What we conserve outlives the shout And moves again through him