Time’s Whisper

In shadowed corridors, we tread the hours, 
Where echoes of forgotten footsteps cling. 
The past, a ghostly garden, blooms in flowers, 
Its petals fragile, memories on the wing.

The fly that lives a single day, they say, 
Has lived as long as we, in measured span. 
Yet let us seize the moments while they sway, 
For time is time, and runs away from man.

The sages argue, but we know the truth: 
Our days are numbered, like the autumn leaves. 
Each heartbeat counts, each breath a fleeting proof, 
That life, like whispered verses, swiftly weaves.

So let us live, my love, while yet we may, 
Embrace the now, for time will fade away.

Time’s Whisper

Peter is a member of STEF (The Performing Rights Society of Iceland) and FTT (The Icelandic Society of Authors & Composers).
He has made around or more than 15 thousand music works, 7 thousand poems and 5 thousand landscape paintings...

Time’s Whisper

Pétur Söebech Quinn