Everything is possible, everything is impossible  until faith decides.

There was a time when I believed the world was divided between what can happen and what cannot  between dreamers who chase the stars and realists who stay grounded. But life, in its quiet way, kept teaching me that both sides whisper the same truth. Once, there was a boy who wanted to fly a paper bird higher than the clouds. Every day he’d run to the field, clutching his creation folded with care, marked by tiny hopes  but the wind never came. The villagers laughed and said, “Impossible, the sky isn’t waiting for you.” Yet the boy waited anyway. Days passed, seasons turned, and one day, the wind finally found him. For a brief, trembling moment, the paper bird danced. It wasn’t luck or magic, but the quiet patience of a child who didn’t stop believing. Everything is impossible until it happens. We often say, “Anything is possible,”and though it sounds powerful, it’s not always easy to carry, because if everything is possible, what stops us? Us our fears, our excuses, our quiet doubts. Possibility doesn’t mean certainty; it means openness, a door that can be opened, but only if we dare to walk toward it. And “impossible”  strangely  isn’t the enemy; it’s a teacher that humbles us, challenges us, and forces us to be creative. The word once described flying machines, talking across miles, healing through light and code  and yet, here we are, living in those impossibilities every day. Maybe impossible is just possible in disguise, waiting for someone foolish enough to try. Everything is possible, and everything is impossible, both true depending on where you stand. When you believe, the world expands; when you doubt, it shrinks. Life moves between these two  like the tide  teaching humility and courage at once. So when your heart whispers, “This can’t be done,” smile softly and answer, “Maybe not yet.” Between possible and impossible lies a thin line drawn by your faith, your patience, and your willingness to try one more time. The wind doesn’t always blow when you want it to, but when it does, even a paper bird can touch the sky. And perhaps that’s what life quietly teaches us that patience is not waiting in vain, but believing in motion before it arrives. Faith is the bridge between waiting and becoming.