I. The Tranquility of Joy

Joy speaks of infinity revealed through time,
A moment caught within the breath of air;
In nature’s quiet, the heart begins to rhyme,
And feels eternity reflected there.

A spot of time—the soul’s immortal spark—
Where beauty blooms, untouched by fear or loss;
The day grows dim, yet still it leaves its mark,
Etched soft in gold, beneath the evening’s gloss.

But joy is fleeting, tender as the dew,
It fades when memory dares to look behind;
Yet through the heart’s recall, it blooms anew,
For time preserves what life cannot rewind.

So joy, though passing, whispers to the soul—
In fleeting hours, we glimpse the whole.

II. The Sonnet of Sorrow

Then sorrow comes, to teach what joy forgot,
Its echo deepens every pulse of pain;
The sweetest song recalls the tears it brought,
And love remembers lives and dies again.

Poetry—overflow of feelings’ flood—
Flows from the heart subdued by memory’s hand;
Recollecting peace gives way to blood,
And tranquil thought turns fire upon the land.

Through time’s cold glass, emotion reappears,
Contemplating till tranquility is slain;
We live again the grief of vanished years,
And find in thought the pulse of loss remains.

Yet sorrow’s face, though shadowed, still is kind—
It sharpens sight and purifies the mind.

III. The Power of Time

For joy and sorrow twine where change is none,
Pure mutability, forever bound;
They bloom together, setting with the sun,
And rise as one, though buried in the ground.

To move, forget—and yet be drawn once more,
Through joy’s bright door into remembered ache;
The heart is healed and wounded as before,
By every step that time compels to take.

The joy of heaven, yet without release,
We face the silent power that death employs;
But time, though cruel, restores a partial peace—
It drags the living back to life and joys.

Thus memory’s burden softly is undone:
Through sorrow lost, the heart returns to sun.

IV. The Reconciliation

At last, the heart accepts what time bestows—
That joy and sorrow share a single name;
Each loss, the seed from which remembrance grows,
Each joy, a parchment sorrow feeds to flame.

No peace endures untouched by grief’s embrace,
No tear falls wasted on the barren ground;
Through pain, the soul discerns its truest face,
And learns in silence where its depths are found.

The tranquil mind no longer strives to part
The dark from light, the blessing from the scar;
It holds both pulse and stillness in one heart,
And finds its truth in things just as they are.

So ends the song where every sorrow mends—
In joy begun, in timeless peace it ends.