The River of Days
The River of Days, in ceaseless flow it glides,
Yesterday's whispers carried on the tides.
Sun-dappled fragments, like ripples on the stream,
Dim echoes fading, a forgotten dream.
Today, a shimmering drop, a fleeting spark,
Caught in the sunbeam, leaving its gentle mark.
Where memories mingle with the future's call,
A precious moment, poised to rise or fall.
With steady hands and reason's guiding light,
We carve our virtue in this fleeting might.
A seed of action, sown with mindful care,
To blossom brightly is a burden we can bear.
Tomorrow's vista, shrouded in soft mist,
A canvas waiting for the artist's kiss.
Unfurling whispers on the whispered breeze,
A symphony of maybes, rustling through the trees.
Will dawn ignite with hope's celestial fire?
Or will the storm clouds gather, dark and dire?
The river whispers secrets, yet untold,
Only time's embrace will make its story bold.
So let us gather fragments from the past,
Lessons learned, that forever seem to last.
With virtue's compass guiding every stride,
We meet the future, with hope as our guide.
For in the river's dance, both swift and grand,
Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow, hand in hand.
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