The world keeps turning, a quiet plea,
A soft voice asking, "What will I be?"
From early morning, a gentle, new start,
To evening's quiet, a settling heart.
The flower opens, soft and green,
Then turns to dust, while we are fast asleep.
We rise and fall, like waves in the sea,
A blink of the eye, and no longer seen.
I look for wisdom in the birds that fly,
Making their patterns in the open sky.
Do they remember all the days they've known?
Oh, what life has spun,
Beneath the eye of moon and sun.
And yet, we long to find the key,
To mend what's broken, know what's meant to be.
The winds that pushed them, and the seeds they've sown?
This fragile body, this breath, this steady beat,
A short, sweet dance, with joy and sorrow meet.
Oh, what life has spun,
Beneath the eye of moon and sun.
And yet, we long to find the key,
To mend what's broken, know what's meant to be.
Our laughter echoes, then it fades away,
A silent question, born of every day.
We wish for things that stay the same,
But even beauty fades away.
We chase the quiet, want the river still,
But pages turn against our will.
We search for answers, to see and to know,
While nature whispers as the seasons go.
Oh, what life has spun,
Beneath the eye of moon and sun.
And yet, we long to find the key,
To mend what's broken, know what's meant to be.
This great big plan, this woven tapestry,
Where does it lead, and what does it mean?
The answer isn't in the final days,
But in the years that we lost our way.
Oh, what life has spun,
Beneath the eye of moon and sun.
And yet, we long to find the key,
To mend what's broken, know what's meant to be.
Oh, what life has spun,
Beneath the eye of moon and sun.
And yet, we long to find the key,
To mend what's broken, know what's meant to be.
The answer isn't in the final days,
But in the years that we lost our way.
Sep 24, 2025
Sep 24, 2025 at 10:36 AM UTC
The world keeps turning, a quiet plea,
A soft voice asking, "What will I be?"
From early morning, a gentle, new start,
To evening's quiet, a settling heart.
The flower opens, soft and green,
Then turns to dust, while we are fast asleep.
We rise and fall, like waves in the sea,
A blink of the eye, and no longer seen.
I look for wisdom in the birds that fly,
Making their patterns in the open sky.
Do they remember all the days they've known?
Oh, what life has spun,
Beneath the eye of moon and sun.
And yet, we long to find the key,
To mend what's broken, know what's meant to be.
The winds that pushed them, and the seeds they've sown?
This fragile body, this breath, this steady beat,
A short, sweet dance, with joy and sorrow meet.
Oh, what life has spun,
Beneath the eye of moon and sun.
And yet, we long to find the key,
To mend what's broken, know what's meant to be.
Our laughter echoes, then it fades away,
A silent question, born of every day.
We wish for things that stay the same,
But even beauty fades away.
We chase the quiet, want the river still,
But pages turn against our will.
We search for answers, to see and to know,
While nature whispers as the seasons go.
Oh, what life has spun,
Beneath the eye of moon and sun.
And yet, we long to find the key,
To mend what's broken, know what's meant to be.
This great big plan, this woven tapestry,
Where does it lead, and what does it mean?
The answer isn't in the final days,
But in the years that we lost our way.
Oh, what life has spun,
Beneath the eye of moon and sun.
And yet, we long to find the key,
To mend what's broken, know what's meant to be.
Oh, what life has spun,
Beneath the eye of moon and sun.
And yet, we long to find the key,
To mend what's broken, know what's meant to be.
The answer isn't in the final days,
But in the years that we lost our way.
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