In the mystery of the universe, where mortal hands cannot stop the fall of flowers
In the mystery of the universe, where mortal hands cannot stop the fall of flowers,
tears gather like pearls on the petals of destiny, without defying the law of time,
for what must be, shall be, like the twilight that bows before the night,
and the stars, in a trembling choir, bow to the dusk with grace and silence.
Let us not cling to the hourglass, for its sand flows like an endless river of gold,
let us drink from its golden dust, like lovers sipping the last drop of wine,
and lose ourselves in the dance of moments, unafraid of the whisper of time past,
for beauty lies in the passing, in the ephemeral that gives meaning to boundless eternity.
In the depths of the heart, let memories flow like rivers through forgotten valleys,
while our souls merge with the pale light of the waning moon,
and let us remember that life is a dream, a poem written on pages of stellar ink,
and love, an echo resounding beyond the edges of time and space.
So let us embrace our destiny, be carried by the wave of the present moment,
and find in the flower's fall not sorrow, but the beauty of an inevitable departure,
for in every ending there is a new beginning, a rebirth of celestial desires,
and in every sunset, a promise of a new dawn, shining with hope.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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