Time Stretches

Listen… Time does not run, it stretches, it breathes, It flows in a fragile capsule no hand can grasp. It dances in bright embers within the veins of the living, It sculpts in slow circles the roots of giants.

Humans? They flicker like sparks, Dust of fleeting moments scattered into oblivion. A mere century, Restless hearts, Living to the rhythm of fleeting days. One spring, one leap, one escape, Then the night takes them, swift and silent.

The stag leaps, the fox glides, The owl watches, unwavering. And beneath their paws, indifferent, The Earth stretches across millennia.

The trees? They tell history in great silences, The wind passes through their existence. Each leaf is a slow letter Written to the ages of yesterday. They read us as they read their bark, The signs of a changing cycle. They whisper: "You pass, we dream."

But… Beneath the foam of centuries, of eras, Time shapes, time reveals. Forests change, their peaks rise, New trees are born, Breathing the mist and catching the shadows. Their roots spread, Their crowns bend, Their shadows carve the song of signs.

Humans fall, humans search, While the Earth moves forward, Unshaken, Awaiting neither king nor prayer, It vibrates, it dreams in silence.

So listen… The breath of vast ages, The call of the world brushing against you. You think you move through time, But it is time that moves through you.

For history is an immense river— And you, dust in the dance, You drift, you struggle, you glide.

You believe—but the wind, You believe—but the rain. Stones crumble, roads collapse, Names fade into forgetting.

And yet… Beneath the rock, beneath the skin, Something persists, resists, resonates. The trees remember, The rivers tell, The mountains watch, The stars bear witness.

So listen… The memory of the world, The roots. Each leaf carries a century of wind, Each drop weeps an ocean.

You think you escape oblivion, But it is oblivion that shapes all. You think tomorrow is a line, But tomorrow is a spiral, undulating.

And when your breath joins the song, The river will continue its dance, Without beginning, without end, Only a rhythm, Only a movement.