Passage

I ponder upon the passing of time,
Its subtle rhythm, its haunting chime.

A fleeting moment, like a gentle breeze,
Whispers secrets among the trees,
A minute, an hour, a day gone by.

Through seasons painted with vivid hue,
Like strokes upon a canvas, vibrant, true,
Time weaves a tapestry, both soft and bold,
Each thread a story waiting to be told.

The tender touch of a lover’s embrace,
Captured in time, a cherished grace,
Yet moments waltz with an elusive grace,
As time molds destiny, tracing each face,
And leaves us like grains of sand that slide by.

For time, dear souls, does not truly flee,
But reveals the truth that sets us free,
As days unfold like petals in the sun,
We find the strength to journey on.

So let us savor each precious breath,
Embrace the beauty before our eyes, lest,
The passing of time be etched in the dark.

For time, my dear, is but a fleeting dance,
An opportunity to grasp romance,
To paint our dreams upon life’s grand stage,
And leave a legacy that will never age.

For in the passing of each moment, you see,
Lies the essence of what it means to truly be.