Life unfolds in a rhythm both profound and universal. We enter this world in vulnerability, swaddled in hope and wonder. Birth is the dawn—a promise of possibility, a blank page awaiting stories yet untold. But woven into that same tapestry are threads of aging, sickness, and death—the shadows that give light its meaning.
Aging is not decay, but a testament to endurance. With each wrinkle, each silvered hair, we wear the maps of our journeys—laughter etched in crow’s feet, wisdom carved in furrowed brows. Yet as time softens our bodies, it also whispers of fragility. Sickness arrives unannounced, a stark reminder that we are but temporary vessels. In fevered nights and weary days, we confront our limits, humbled by the body’s rebellion against its own existence.
And then, death—the horizon we all approach. It is not an end, but a quiet closing of a chapter written in breaths, heartbeats, and silent dreams. In its inevitability lies life’s deepest poetry: We are here to love fiercely, learn deeply, and leave traces of kindness. For in the face of impermanence, every moment becomes sacred. Every sunrise savored, every hand held, every forgiveness offered—gains weight against the fleetingness of our days.
To embrace this cycle is not resignation, but liberation. It teaches us to live with open hands—to hold joy lightly, endure sorrow gracefully, and walk gently toward the unknown. For in birth, we are gifted a story; in death, we return it to the universe, complete.
what's your name.
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