Between the lines of birth and death,
Lies a world of dreams and breath,
A fleeting dash, a silent quest,
In which our souls find rest.

In moments brief and whispers soft,
We build our lives aloft,
With hopes that soar and fears that bind,
In the spaces we unwind.

The dash holds stories yet untold,
Of hearts both young and old,
A tapestry of time and grace,
Woven in a sacred space.

Embrace the dash with gentle hand,
For in its breadth we stand,
A journey vast, a fleeting grace,
In which we find our place.