In the silent march of the minutes, Under the relentless ticking of the universe, In its song, solace we find, barren yet beautiful. We drink the fading echoes of yesterday, In the dream-like dance of thoughts, Chasing shadows of the past, lost within the lacuna. To the morrow, we lend our hopes and fears, The future, veiled in mists of the unknown, An elegant enigma, woven from whispers of time. [outro][end]
