In Peace and In Riot

A rising sun gently brushes the horizon, 

lighting delicate buds of youth, so bright, 

where dreams are spun from silken threads 

and laughter rings like birds in morning light.

Time, the silent weaver, works our days

into tales of self, each thread a desire, 

Moments slip by, each a fleeting touch,

like whispers on a gentle breeze.

In the tapestry, we find our place,

held together by love and time's embrace.

fabric of want. The mirror shows 

our growth, a changing picture, full of fire.

In youth, selfishness shines, an uncut gem,

brilliant and raw. We think we’re the center, 

unaware of the pull, unaware of the silent gravity. 

Our light casts shadows, and

each year, shifts and sways, 

softening its edges, carving awareness anew. 

We learn the weight of dreams, the ache 

of silent struggles finding beauty, too.

Adulthood brings a balancing act, 

learning to give, to take, to let go. 

Responsibilities bloom like wildfires, 

each burning flame a testament to maturity.

Middle age brings twilight hues, 

memories like autumn leaves, 

falling slow, crisp and fragile, each step a reminder 

of paths walked, choices made long ago towards

old age, and a winter’s calm. We are 

tree and seed, both end and beginning.

In quiet moments we find peace, 

aware of life’s meaning.

Beneath the fireworks of a life, we find 

celebration in small things, in the quiet 

moments, purring winds carrying us 

forward, ever onward, in peace and in riot.