2024 November #007. Through the clockwork of moments we weave, silhouetted figures in a dance most brief. Chaotic shards in our wake we leave, life’s mosaic, joy and grief. Each step an echo in the halls of time, where past and future in the present rhyme. Whirling, leaping, an orchestrated chime, our shadows cast in relentless climb.
Threads of destiny around us twirl, in the endless ballet of the world's unfurl. Motion and stillness, together they swirl, fractured fragments into tapestries curl. Cast in the spotlight, yet unseen, the graceful play of what has been. Every pirouette a change foreseen, on fate's vast stage, we intervene.
The rhythm binds every disparate piece, in the flowing current of silent peace. With every turn, our essences release, a temporal ballet that will never cease. Dancers in an ephemeral show, with every gesture, we grow. From the chaos, structures flow, in the dance, creation's glow.
