The Thread We've Lost

I walked alone through a city of faces,
Eyes downcast, moving to nameless places.
Each step echoed in the hollowed street,
A thousand hearts, but none would meet.
I thought, perhaps, this is strength,
To need no one, to keep my distance.
But the silence sang a different tune,
A mournful cry beneath the moon.

I saw a man, his hands clenched tight,
Holding on to shadows, bracing for the fight.
A woman passed, her shoulders bare,
But he turned away, too lost to care.
I wondered then, what we’d become,
A race of strangers, deaf and numb.
To see the pain, and turn aside,
Is this the strength that we confide?

The seasons turned, the earth grew dry,
Beneath the weight of every lie.
We chased the sun, but burned the ground,
And lost the voices that once resound.
I saw myself in the shattered glass,
A reflection shaped by a selfish past.
The stoic mask I used to wear,
Had cracked beneath the weight of care.

I stood and watched the trees grow thin,
And felt the emptiness within.
The air grew thick with things unsaid,
A forest mourning what it bled.
The weight of time fell on my chest,
And whispered truths I’d long suppressed:
"We’re not alone, we’re all the same,
Threads of one, in life’s great frame."

I saw the truth as the dawn broke through,
A golden sky that painted the dew.
Each fleeting moment, a fragile thread,
Binding the living, binding the dead.
The walls we build, they only divide,
What we protect is what we hide.
Our strength is not in standing tall,
But in the grace to lift us all.

The road is long, the climb is steep,
But every step is a promise we keep.
Each act of care, a healing wave,
Each bridge we build, a world we save.
Time is short, but the path is clear,
Let love be louder than fear.
The future bends to what we sow,
A garden blooms where kindness grows.

I turned to the faces I used to ignore,
And found a depth I’d missed before.
Each life, a mirror, a whispered truth,
The wisdom lost in fleeting youth.
We’re all bound by a common thread,
A single spark where love is spread.
It’s not too late to learn, to grow,
To mend the wounds of what we know.

The song we sing is not our own,
A melody from seeds we’ve sown.
Each note, a hand, each chord, a name,
A voice that echoes through joy and pain.
We’re woven into the endless stream,
A waking world, a shared dream.
If we can hold, if we can stay,
The dawn will rise beyond the gray.

So now I walk, not alone, not blind,
With open arms and a quiet mind.
The faces pass, but now I see,
They’re parts of me, and I of thee.
The song’s not over, it’s just begun,
A hymn of hope for everyone.
If we can wake, if we can learn,
The light we’ve lost can still return.