In saffron robes, the sage murmurs through a sigh,
“We hunt phantom rapture, let living hours run dry.
We grasp at futures spun of gossamer—adrift—
Blind to today’s burning ember, our one certain gift.”

Yesterday’s ghosts are deaf to our cries,
Tomorrow’s illusion dissolves before our eyes.
We ransom the moment for hopes that vanish midair,
While reality whispers: you’ve arrived and are already there.

You marvel at joy, naming it distant and rare,
A sun always ascending, yet never yours to share.
The glory of now shimmers—then recedes into the night,
While you chase the horizon, the present fades out of sight.

Irony laughs as you tally the cost;
You’re rich with what’s real, but live like you’re lost.
Your life is a treasure locked deep in a chest,
While time, the true creditor, claims all the rest.

Relinquish illusions—your blueprints and plans,
Find wonder and worth in the life you cradle in your hands.
Today holds the miracle—raw, vibrant, and bright—
Open your eyes and step into the light.

Pause for a breath, release your despair,
Let go of tomorrow, be fully aware.
The future is unborn, the past—a bygone tale—
This moment’s your vessel. Let your spirit set sail!