Whenever I watch old family videos of my elders,
A quiet sadness wells up within me.
It reminds me that I, too, am part of this inevitable cycle,
“That dust returns to dust.” Oh my, I can’t help but write another poem.
In flickering frames, their laughter echoes,
Faces etched with stories now faded,
Yet in their eyes, a spark of eternal youth.
This reflection prompts me to question how I spend my time,
And whether I am truly living with awareness,
Rather than letting precious moments slip away.
Oh, fleeting sands of the hourglass,
Teach me to cherish the now,
Scheme a drawing of presence into the gold of days,
Before the cycle claims us all.
For in the quiet hum of memory,
We find the pulse of life renewed
Not in the past's embrace, but in the mindful step forward.