By DALL·E.AI (GPT)

In the garden of moments, time whispers,
A dance of shadows and light, entwined.
It tells of epochs that bloom and wither,
Of seconds that spark, then fade from sight.

Time, the silent weaver of destinies,
Crafts tales in the loom of the universe.
It stitches the fabric of memories,
With threads of moments, both blessing and curse.

An endless river, it flows, unbound,
Past shores of dreams where we dare to tread.
Beneath its surface, our reflections found,
In waters deep, where thoughts quietly spread.

Time holds us, in its gentle, firm grasp,
A bond unbroken, from first breath to last.
It marches forward, a relentless clasp,
Yet cradles us in the warmth of its past.