Saving for a future not Guaranteed

I walk a thread stretched taut and fine,

Between today and some far time.

The sun sets fast, the seasons spin,

And still I store my coins within.

I’ve seen the roses bloom and fade,

Watched granite dreams turn into shade.

Life’s brevity I’ve come to know—

A flame that flickers, brief and low.

Yet wisdom whispers in the dusk:

“Plan well, lest time turn gold to dust.

The years may come, the body tire,

Prepare for rest before the fire.”

But what if dawns I never see?

What wealth would then be left of me?

If death should knock without delay,

What treasures would I take away?

So here I stand, one eye on now,

One turned toward when, with furrowed brow.

I save, I give, I spend with care—

A steward’s hand, a pilgrim’s prayer.

Not chained to fear, nor drunk with gain,

But sowing joy in loss and strain.

I build for winters yet to be,

But live each day with soul set free.

For wisdom is the art to hold

Both heaven’s crown and prudent gold—

To live as though each breath were last,

And still prepare for futures vast.

So teach me, Lord, to count my days,

To walk in light, not fortune’s haze.

To store not just in vaults below,

But where eternal gardens grow.