Today, I woke up visibly older,
lines deepened like rivers in time.
Yet life stands untouched, unmeasured,
a quiet ghost without a chime.

Some mornings, I rise much younger,
soft as dawn, weightless and free.
Yet it is still this same old wonder,
an ageless dream inside of me.

Life is a puzzle, cruel and kind,
a whisper of loss, a burst of light.
It bends, it breaks, then heals in time,
a fleeting shadow, burning bright.

“To live is to carry the storm and the sun in the same hands—
to know sorrow like an old friend, yet still dance in the rain.”