Passer-by.

We walk the roads with dust in our shoes,
hearts brimming with hopes we never quite use.
Flickers of laughter, whispers of cries,
all of us here are mere passer-bys.

We plant our names on the sands of time,
building high dreams that forget to climb.
Chasing the wind, we reach for the sky,
but even the stars are just passing by.

Old man with stories no one will hear,
child with a future blurred but near,
lovers who kiss like the world might end,
strangers, yet bound like kin or friend.

We are the echoes of silent songs,
the right we do, the quiet wrongs.
The fleeting glance, the held-back sigh,
the prayer, the promise, the asking “why?”

Birth is a doorway, death is a gate,
and all in between is the breath of fate.
Moments that shimmer, then softly die,
and so it goes, we all pass by.

Yet in the passing, we leave behind.. .
pieces of soul for others to find.
Kindness like candles in endless night,
a word, a touch, a spark of light.

So walk your road with open eyes,
love like the moon in borrowed skies.
For though we’re here just to say goodbye,
we shape the world, even as we pass by.