Serpent’s Dance

In the twilight of existence,
the serpent coils, shimmering scales,
a whisper of shadows,
where destruction unfurls its wings,
devouring the remnants of yesterday,
ash falling like confetti,
while the earth exhales,
cradling the seeds of tomorrow.

With each twist of its body,
chaos spills forth,
a tempest of energy,
tearing down the fortress of form,
the old crumbles to dust,
and in that silence, the womb of creation stirs,
birthing visions anew,
as the serpent slithers through the void.

In the heartbeat of the storm,
the thunder roars — an elegy,
for what was, now faded,
yet in the echoes, life whispers,
“Embrace the cycle, for death is but a doorway,”
and the serpent sways,
a dance of paradox, a sinewy rhythm.

As the sun rises from the ashes,
light spills over the horizon,
each ray a promise,
a spark igniting the canvas of being,
flowers bloom from charred earth,
their colors a riot, a celebration,
the serpent nods,
its dance a reminder of the eternal flow.

In this endless waltz of life,
creation and destruction entwined,
each step a testament to resilience,
chaos, the sculptor of existence,
for in the dance of the serpent,
we find our truth,
the necessary force of growth, wild and free.