In the hush of dawn, the first breath drawn,
A wisp of light where shadows spawn.
Life, a spark in the sea of cold,
Bold in its quest, tender, yet old.

On slender paths, the roots take hold,
Stories untold, in whispers rolled.
A river’s glide through hills of stone,
A murmured hymn in undertone.

The hands of time, unseen, unfurled,
Shape the tapestry of this world.
Each moment carved, both fierce and kind,
A fleeting trace, the soul confined.

The seasons turn with measured grace,
The bloom, the fall, a measured pace.
Spring’s soft green, the summer’s blaze,
And autumn’s fire, winter’s haze.

Yet even in death’s deepest shroud,
There lies a seed, serene and proud.
For when the dark extends its reach,
Life, in silence, learns to teach.

Not in defeat, nor cowering dread,
But in a dance where spirits wed.
A cycle spun, both loss and gain,
A song repeated, a...