The Song of Endless Roads I. The Beginning The morning stirs with golden breath, A hush before the day is born. The earth awakens, soft and slow, Its heart still trembling from the dawn. I step into the waiting silence, Shoes damp with dew, lungs filled with sky. The road before me bends and whispers, “Walk on, child, don’t ask why.” For every path has secrets hidden, Carved in stone and sung by streams, And those who dare to keep on walking Find their footsteps leading into dreams. II. Voices of the Earth The fields are choirs of quiet wonder, Grass blades hum in emerald rows. The trees hold council in their stillness, Guardians of what the spirit knows. Birdsong bursts like sudden laughter, Rising clear where shadows fade. Each feathered voice a note of freedom, Each trill a hymn creation made. The wind becomes my patient teacher, Tracing stories along my skin. It speaks of journeys without ending, Of worlds that live both out and in. III. The Weight ...
The River of Time
Beneath the sky of endless hue,
The river of time flows steady, true.
It carries whispers, dreams, and fears,
Stories woven through countless years.
Its waters glisten in dawn’s first light,
A silver path through day and night.
Upon its banks, the children play,
Unaware how soon they’ll drift away.
The river hums a timeless song,
A melody both soft and strong.
It speaks of lovers, hand in hand,
Who carve their names into the sand.
Yet tides will rise, and winds will call,
The river remembers—it erases all.
Still hearts return with hope to find,
The echoes left, the ties that bind.
A traveler comes with weary feet,
The current calls, serene, discreet.
He kneels to sip, and in the stream,
He sees reflections of his dream.
A soldier kneels with armor torn,
His eyes are tired, his spirit worn.
He casts his sorrow to the deep,
The river rocks his grief to sleep.
An artist dips his brush within,
And paints the world on waters thin.
Colors ripple, stories bloom,
Life’s bright lanterns chase the gloom.
The river bears both night and day,
It knows when souls will come, or stray.
No stone, no flame, no fleeting breath
Can halt its march, not even death.
Yet still it gifts what all desire,
A chance to rise, to climb, aspire.
For every drop that journeys far
Becomes a spark, a guiding star.
The child who laughed is now a sage,
The lover’s hand is wrinkled with age.
The soldier’s tale is carved in song,
The artist’s canvas carries on.
Though moments fade like fleeting rain,
The river whispers: Begin again.
Its voice is gentle, vast, profound,
A promise hidden in its sound.
So drink, O dreamer, do not wait,
The river opens every gate.
It carries you though you may weep,
It cradles you in endless sleep.
But while you stand, while you can sing,
Let every hour a lantern bring.
Let kindness flow, let courage climb,
And join your soul with the river of time.
For when the stars in silence gleam,
And you are folded into dream,
Your current joins the endless sea,
A tide of love, eternity.
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