Life is beauty, and life is pain,
a dance of loss, a song of gain.
It shimmers gold, then fades to gray,
a fleeting dawn, a waning day.

It lifts us high with whispered bliss,
soft lips that touch, a lover's kiss.
Yet breaks us, bends us, tests our will,
a mountain steep, a climb uphill.

It thrills, it aches, it sparks, it wanes,
it hums in blood, it roars in veins.
It is laughter, it is weeping,
a waking dream, a midnight creeping.

It is the light that warms the skin,
the fear of losing all within.
It is the hand that pulls you near,
the shadowed doubts, the strangling fear.

It is the mundane, the slow, the still,
the silent hours, the quiet will.
It is the rush, the reckless run,
the roaring fire, the setting sun.

Yet if we never knew the fall,
would heights be precious things at all?
If never lost in tempest deep,
would peace be something worth to keep?

The jagged path, the winding lane,
the burning loss, the hard-won gain,
they carve the heart, they shape the soul,
they make the fractured spirit whole.

So let us rise, though winds may chide,
embrace the waves, the turning tide.
For life's not meant to be a line,
its peaks and valleys make it shine.