We drift through time like autumn birds,
We are nothing but uttered words.
Not stone, nor flame, nor wealth we claim—
But echoes tied to breath and name.
A single phrase can shape a soul,
A careless one can leave a hole.
Though deeds may fade like prints in sand,
Our spoken truth will always stand.
The echo waits beyond the breath,
Beyond the hush that follows death.
A whisper now may yet be heard,
A future shaped by just one word.
We weigh our worth in loss and gain,
In fleeting joy and lasting pain.
But when the haze of time has stirred,
We are nothing but uttered words.
So speak with grace, let kindness lead,
Let thought precede each planted seed.
For words outlive our fleeting part—
They build the soul, they bind the heart.
And when your name begins to fade,
Like twilight dimming into shade,
Let love remain in lines once heard—
We are nothing but uttered words.
