Time, the great healer, they say,
Mends every wound, come what may,
But in its passage, we often find,
Pain and hurt, left behind.
We rush through life, with speed and pace,
Ignoring warnings, and time’s gentle face,
Drivers exceed limits, with reckless might,
And suffer injuries, in the dark of night.
But time, the healer, works its gentle art,
Mending broken bones, and soothing the heart,
With each passing day, the pain subsides,
And though scars remain, they slowly hide.
Yet, in our haste, we forget the past,
And repeat mistakes, that will forever last,
For time, though healer, is also a test,
Of our patience, and our ability to rest.
So let us learn, from time’s gentle hand,
To slow our pace, and understand,
That healing comes, with time’s sweet grace,
And that patience, is a virtue, we must embrace.
For time, the healer, works its magic spell,
Mending wounds, and making us whole once more to tell,
But we must listen, to its gentle voice,
And slow our pace, to make a safer choice.
In the cycle of time, we find our fate,
A balance of speed, and a gentle state,
So let us heed, the lessons of the past,
And let time, the healer, work its magic at last.
