Dukkha Dukkha

In the shadowed ballet of life's winding dance,
Whispers of dukkha weave through the stance,
With aching steps 'neath the moon's tender gaze,
The soul wearies, wrapped in night's gentle haze.

Birth's tender cry marks the pain's first embrace,
A symphony of time that none can outpace,
Aging unfurls like a fragile old vine,
Illness wraps softly in sorrow's design.

Dying sings its haunting, inevitable song,
A lament on the breeze, where shadows belong,
Distress like a storm in a curious sky,
Yearning for peace, for it's not ours to fly.

In the marionette’s dance, with limbs bound by strings,
Our hearts echo stories of longings and stings,
Amidst the ephemeral blossoms of dreams,
Dukkha weaves softly in life's endless seams.