A whis­per drifts where none can hear,
Through end­less dark, so cold, so clear.
A star is born, a star will fade,
Yet space for­gets the paths they made.

The comets dance, the plan­ets spin,
Yet time won’t ask if they will win.
For light will stretch, and light will bend,
And even stars must meet their end.

But in the void, no end is true,
For dust becomes the cos­mic new.
What once was lost, will rise, deploy—
A spark, a life, a dis­tant joy.

The riv­er flows, yet stays the same,
A wind­ing path, a whis­pered name.
It carves the stone, yet bends with ease,
No need to fight, no need to seize.

The wind may howl, the storms may rise,
Yet stars still shine in end­less skies.
What bends sur­vives, what breaks is gone,
The night must pass to bring the dawn.

So let life flow, let bur­dens light,
No need to chase, no need to fight.
For time will take, and time will give,
And all we have—is now, to live.

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