The Tapestry of Life

I. The Dawn of Breath

From silence sprung a whisper deep,

Where stars and soil in cradle sleep,

A breath was drawn, the first of flame,

A soul awoke, with none to name.

The world lay vast, unknown, unmade,

A garden wild, a desert's shade.

Yet eyes that knew not what they sought

Began to weave the cloth of thought.

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II. The Child and the Dream

In laughter light, the child ran free,

With sky for roof and roots for tree.

No sorrow there, just questions wide,

Where moonlight played and fear would hide.

The dream was soft, the hours slow,

Like rivers learning where to flow.

Each touch, each voice, a stroke of thread

In golden patterns softly spread.

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III. The Fire of Youth

Then came the fire — oh, wild youth!

A time of seeking truth through tooth.

Hearts bled for love, and hands would shake

From passions lit that would not break.

Mountains climbed with reckless feet,

Defeat was bitter, triumph sweet.

The ego danced, the soul would burn,

And every loss became a turn.

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IV. The Middle Road

Mid-life arrives with whispered grace,

A slower pace, a wiser face.

The mirrors tell a tale of lines,

Of shattered clocks and stretched-out signs.

You count not time, but what it gave —

The laughs, the wounds, the ones you save.

You learn that less can still mean more,

And silence, too, may hold a door.

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V. The Autumn’s Prayer

Autumn walks with leafy feet,

A quiet song, a slow heartbeat.

Memories rise like morning mist —

A lover’s hand, a child once kissed.

The dreams once chased now gently land

As folded letters in your hand.

You speak not loud, but with the eyes,

For words now feel too small for skies.

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VI. The Winter Light

And when the frost begins to form,

A final hush, a sacred storm.

You do not fear the night to come,

For all you were is beating drum.

The past, the pain, the light, the rain —

You’d walk that crooked path again.

For life was not just sun and breath —

But beauty carved by time and death.

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VII. The Eternal Thread

And when you fade like dusk to dark,

Your soul still leaves a lasting mark.

In hearts you touched, in words you gave,

In seeds you planted, small and brave.

So fear not end, nor mourn the flight,

For life is stitched in shadow-light.

Each thread — of joy, of loss, of strife —

Becomes the fabric known as Life.