Passing Through

Life's a relentless journey, a continuous walk,  

We traverse until it halts, a ceaseless talk.  

Constant speed, feelings gradually wane,  

A ferment, like dill pickles—life’s refrain.

We peer through the glass, concave and unclear,  

Facing the unknown, the essence we revere.  

Attempts to halt are futile, brakes cut by fate,  

Newton’s law persists, powerful yet delicate.

Delicate as the notion it isn’t wholly true—  

Halting life’s flow is an impossible view.  

Yet life, in its whims, has moments to choose,  

It stops us, leaving us with moments to lose.

Pickles sit, growing saltier in their jar,  

While we, like wrinkled pickles, wear the scar.  

The fire within starts to dim, lose its spark,  

The star in our story loses its twinkle, turns stark.

Maintaining style, a journey through life’s haze,  

A continuous walk, even as the feeling decays.