Rivers of Time

Time, a river, unceasing, untamed,
A silent current, no course proclaimed.
It slips through fingers, unseen, yet near,
A fleeting whisper we strain to hear.

The dawn arrives, a golden hue,
With promises vast and skies of blue.
Yet in its glow, the shadows play,
For every moment must drift away.

The sun ascends to its zenith high,
Casting light on the hours gone by.
The laughter fades, the echoes thin,
As twilight gathers the day within.

The ticking clock, a steady beat,
A rhythm neither cruel nor sweet.
It marks the steps, it marks the fall,
A song for one, a song for all.

Youth, so vibrant, a fleeting flare,
Fades to wisdom with graying hair.
A child’s dream, a lover’s kiss,
Are fragments lost in the deep abyss.

Time carves its mark with patient hands,
On mountains, hearts, and shifting sands.
It takes, it gives, it shapes, it bends,
A sculptor of beginnings and ends.

Yet in its flow, a truth we find,
A gift profound, to heart and mind.
For though it steals, it also lends,
A chance to love, to make amends.

The passage of time, both kind and cruel,
A mystery vast, a sacred rule.
It binds us all, yet sets us free,
An eternal dance with eternity.

So let us cherish each fleeting hour,
Embrace its beauty, feel its power.
For in its passage, life will shine,
A precious jewel in the stream of time.