In the breath of dawn, where shadows dissolve,
New beginnings quietly unfold, resolve.
In ancient tales of ashes and rebirth,
We find whispers of renewal, a tender Earth.
The crumbling cityscape, once vibrant, now still,
A reminder that endings are not always ill.
For every stone fallen, a seed takes root,
Silently, faithfully, underfoot.
Amidst the ruins, wildflowers reclaim,
Silent sentinels, neither seeking fame nor blame.
Petals unfurling in defiantly gentle hues,
Announcing that life endlessly renews.
In factories silent, once pulsing with life,
Echoes of past labors, once rife.
The machinery rests, but beneath, unseen,
The whispers of futures yet to convene.
A moth whispers through the fabric of night,
Its wings a testament to cyclical flight.
For in the darkness, transformation begins,
Cocoons left behind, where a new life spins.
Rivers of continuity, flow from mountain to sea,
Drawing lines of renewal across eternity.
Each season a stanza, each moment a line,
In the poetry of existence, perfectly divine.
The earth cradles us all in a cyclical embrace,
From birth to decay, leaving nary a trace.
Yet every ending, a promise of start,
In the infinite dance, we all play our part.
In the beginning and end, entwined we stand,
With fresh eyes, caressing the land.
The pulse of renewal is quiet yet bold,
In the heart of the elements, stories retold.
So let us rise, like the dawn, break anew,
In the simple, profound – find beauty, find true.
For in every ending, a whisper begins,
In the symphony of cycles, every note blends.
Let us embrace it, this perpetual dance,
The rhythm of renewal, a cosmic romance.
In the give and the take, in the ebb and the flow,
In each breath, a journey, in each step, we grow.
