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Life is borrowed; a fleeting melody we can never hold. Everything we touch, from fleeting moments to love itself, passes through us. But in this transience, there is a quiet beauty. This poem speaks to that sacredness, urging us to embrace the fragile passage of time, even when we know it cannot last.

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The days we live are not our own
They pass like wind across the sea
We walk through time but never know
How long the path is meant to be

The morning sun upon our face
Feels warm but never lingers long
It slips away without a trace
Like silence hiding in a song

We hold each other while we can
Not knowing when the end will call
Nothing lasts for ever; will we?
But still we choose to give it all

The stars that shimmer in the sky
Are echoes from a vanished flame
Yet in their hush we wonder why
It comforts us to speak their name

We tend the earth with patient hands
We sow our hopes beneath the rain
And though the night still veils our plans
We trust the sun will rise again

A smile, a sigh, a fleeting glance
We spend them all without a sign
And though they pass like whispered chance
We live and love on borrowed time

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Time is short, and life is fleeting. If all we have is borrowed, let us not waste it. Let every moment be cherished, every choice filled with purpose, as we live and love with urgency, knowing that time waits for none.

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