THE KINGS LAIR house according to Justjeff 017 (17 March 2025) mixed by Justjeff
If it ain't deepIt ain't it
17 March 2025
The earth turns slow beneath a patient sky,
Seasons unfolding like the pages worn
Of some vast book we live, yet fail to spy -
The chapter closed before the next is born.
Spring rises soft, with promises unkept,
The scent of earth awakened from its sleep,
As blossoms dare the sky where winter wept,
And dreams emerge from places buried deep.
Summer arrives - unapologetically bright,
Its golden hours reckless, spent too fast.
We toast to youth, to futures burning white,
And drink the myth that moments ever last.
But autumn knows what summer can’t conceive -
That turning gold is nature’s finest art.
It whispers truths we’re slow to both believe,
And names the quiet courage of the heart.
Then winter comes, austere, refined, and still,
A mirror to the years we’ve left behind,
Where birthdays pass like snow upon the sill,
Each flake a mark of what we’ve come to find.
And so we age, as seasons rise and fall,
Each birth a door, each year a fragile leaf,
And turning new, we answer nature’s call -
To gather joy, to grow, and make our peace.
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