Echoes of the Living

In morning's hush, a whisper grows,

From seed to bloom, the wild rose shows.

A fleeting spark in endless skies,

A soul that dances, loves, and tries.

We rise on hope, we fall in pain,

We chase the sun, then walk through rain.

Each scar, a story etched in time,

Each loss, a shadow shaped in rhyme.

Through days that laugh and nights that weep,

We forge our dreams, we sow, we reap.

Life teaches not in lines or rules,

But through the silence, hearts, and fools.

So live—don’t wait for perfect days,

Find peace in tangled, winding ways.

For even stars must burn to shine,

And every end begins a line.