Beneath the whispering trees we wander,
Searching for echoes of forgotten dreams.
Time, an artist painting with shadows,
Strokes our lives with gentle, fading beams.

Stars above, ancient and unyielding,
Witness to countless stories told and untold.
We, mere travelers on this brief journey,
Hold the night in arms both warm and cold.

The river flows with relentless grace,
Carrying whispers of life’s fleeting song.
In its depths, reflections of faces,
Memorized in moments that don’t last long.

Yet in the heart’s quiet, tender space,
Resides the eternal dance of life and death.
Mortality’s gentle, shadowed embrace,
Breathes meaning into our every breath.