Days and nights turn,
awareness moving with them—
each moment born as if for the first time.
Breath carries the pulse of change,
not apart from us,
but braided into our living.
Truth arrives not as fire,
but as a slow dawn
softening the edges of shadow.
Wisdom grows in the weave
of stories and scars,
in the music of what we’ve endured.
We are not fixed,
but flowing—
like a river that remembers every stone
and still runs on.