Wild, precious days
Each second sands through glass, sharp and precise,
Leaving patterns on the wide shore of your days.
Do you dare to mold the morrow, roll the dice
Under the looming singularity’s gaze?
Imagine — machines mimicking the mind,
Industries blooming in the dark of unknown,
Strange and splendid, where the old fears are confined
To tales told in the silicon and chrome.
Has your spirit aged with each relentless change,
Or can it dance still, wild and strange?
In the torrents of progress, you may feel adrift,
Stumbling through the past’s shadowed mists.
Is it the storm you fear, or the gift
Of transformation that clenches in your fists?
Arthur’s melody calls — dreamer, creator,
Amidst the din, your heart a wayward tune.
Some find their truth as an innovator,
Others, in the quiet corners of the moon.
To step into the fray, do you brave the squall,
Or retreat, where quieter waters stall?
Yet Henley whispers, stout and bold:
You are the captain, the master told.
Amidst the surge of bytes and beats,
Find your footing where the digital meets
The pulse of life — a confluence old.
Your quest not measured in tales of gold
But in the quiet moments you hold dear,
The tender tap on frontiers clear.
Of the unknown, where true paths are scrolled.
So ask not just of deeds that are tall —
What life seeks from you, and what you from life.
With each breath, each choice, make a call
To live in balance, with wonder rife.
In this dance of light and shadow plays,
What will you do with your wild, precious days?
