Whispers Of Time

In silence, time treads softly upon the ground,

Gentle whispers as healing begins to sound.

Embers of memories flicker—some dim, some bright,

Each wound a shadow, a dance in the light.

Days may stretch long when the heart feels the weight,

Yet time possesses a charm—the gift of fate.

For each scar we bear tells a story well-spun,

A tale of endurance in battles hard-won.

With the passage of seasons, the heart learns to mend,

Just as rivers find paths that intertwine and bend.

What once was a fissure now blossoms anew,

Resilience takes root; we learn how to bloom.

As the mountains stand tall through the winds and the rain,

Our spirits, too, rise through the comfort of pain.

The shadows of anguish, like echoes, will fade,

Carried forth gently in the moments they’ve made.

Tick-tock, tick-tock, the clock hums a sigh,

Marking each heartbeat, each laugh, and each cry.

For in every tick, there lies wisdom and grace,

Each moment a teacher, each wound a warm embrace.

Through trials and troubles, the spirit finds wings,

Learning to dance to the tune that life sings.

The echoes of sorrow become whispers of hope,

As time weaves the fabric, helping us cope.

Physical scars fade beneath layers of skin,

While the heart paves a pathway to love deep within.

In moments of stillness, the lessons ring true,

Through acceptance and time, we can start anew.