We claw at time with desperate hands,
But none can break its silent plans.
It moves without a backward glance,
Unmoved by tears, untouched by chance.
We build our lives on shifting sand,
And write our names with trembling hand.
But wind will come, and rain will fall—
And wash away the best of all.
A million voices came before,
Now lost beyond memory's door.
They laughed and wept and loved like we—
Now ghosts beneath a barren tree.
Not carved in stone, nor held in lore,
No stories passed from door to door.
Just shadows cast beneath the stars,
Forgotten who they truly are.
The dreams we dreamed, the vows we made,
Will fade to black, will blur and fade.
No witness left, no soul to speak—
Of every triumph, bold or meek.
We vanish not with cries and flame,
But quiet loss without a name.
The world will turn, the sky will gleam,
As if we lived within a dream.
So while the light still finds your face,
Leave love behind in every place.
For time will steal, but cannot sever
The kindness sown—it lives forever.
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