In the quiet moments of the night,
When shadows dance in the moon’s soft light,
We grasp for threads, both thin and tight,
Trying to hold whatâs out of sight.
The mind, a master of its own fate,
Yet often falls to a tangled state,
Seeking control, but it’s too late,
As chaos whispers at the gate.
We build our walls, we draw the line,
In hopes to keep the wild benign,
But life, it flows, a river’s sign,
That control is but a dream divine.
Embrace the ebb, the flow, the change,
For in the chaos, we arrange,
A dance of life, both wild and strange,
Where control and freedom interchange.