Can Time Heal All Wounds?

In scarred terrain, where memories dwell,

Can time's soft hand truly dispel

The sting of loss, the ache of pain,

And mend the heart, whole once again?

The clock ticks on, relentless tide,

Washing away where sorrows hide,

But does it soothe the soul's deep smart,

Or leave a phantom, etched in heart?

Time, like a sculptor, smooths the stone,

Reshaping grief, once harshly known,

Yet hidden cracks may still reside,

A silent echo, deep inside.

For wounds may heal, and scars may fade,

But some reflections, ever made,

Remain as whispers on the breeze,

A testament to what has ceased.

So let us not on time depend,

To mend the spirit, till the end.

For true repair comes from within,

With strength, acceptance, to begin.

To face the shadows, learn and grow,

Embrace the scars, and let them show,

A tapestry of what we've known,

And build a future, all our own.

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