CHAPTER 11

We stand where dawn and dusk embrace,
Between the fading past and an untamed space.
The wind tastes sharp with untried skies,
And the ground hums low with our own replies.

Childhood still clings in the scent of rain,
Yet the iron of duty runs through our veins.
Our pockets rattle with relics of play,
Beside maps we’ve drawn for an unnamed day.

Behind gold corridors, soft with cheer,
Ahead wild oceans that test what we steer.
Every step is a needle through silk and stone,
Threading a future we’ve never known.

We carry both compass and candle flame,
Through shifting shadows that whisper our name.
On this thin bright edge, we do not wait,
We leap, and in leaping, we choose our fate.

Penned By:

Rtr. Washif Mohamed

Member of Rotaract Club of Colombo Fort