Sailing the script

Through life’s salient journey, We sail paper ships on rivers inked with fate, Through the merrying of our boats, Drumming laughter on the decks of borrowed time. Through shaky weathers and the fall of London Bridge, Where dreams collapse like dominos in the storm, Still, we drift Leaves on the breath of a whispering wind. We are nothing but pencils In the hands of the Creator Graphite hearts encased in fragile wood, Sketching stories we barely understand, Erased and redrawn with divine precision. We are candles lit in jars of clay, Flickering against the winds of doubt, Yet guarded by unseen hands. We are mirrors held to heaven, Catching fragments of a greater light. Each fall is a comma, not a full stop, Each tear a raindrop returning to the sea, Each joy a spark in the coal of becoming. And though we write with trembling strokes, The Master’s grip is sure.