"Ancient Nebular Clock" - Bahamas AI art
©A. Derek Catalano
In Due Time
A seed is sown beneath the earth,
In darkness, cold, and still.
Yet patiently it waits its birth,
For spring’s warm touch to fill.
The river’s path knows where to wind,
Though slow its journey be.
Each stone it shapes, in course and time,
It flows eventually.
The stars that shine, though light delayed,
Have seen a thousand years.
Yet every twinkle, perfectly made,
Appears when it’s meant to appear.
A seed is sown beneath the earth,
In darkness, cold, and still.
Yet patiently it waits its birth,
For spring’s warm touch to fill.
The river’s path knows where to wind,
Though slow its journey be.
Each stone it shapes, in course and time,
It flows eventually.
The stars that shine, though light delayed,
Have seen a thousand years.
Yet every twinkle, perfectly made,
Appears when it’s meant to appear.
A bird that takes its first bold flight,
Leaps not before it’s taught.
In due time, wings strong and right,
It soars with fearless thought.
The flower blooms when dawn has come,
Its petals wide and bright.
Not rushed by day, nor pressed by sun,
But opens when the time is right.
The moon will rise when day is done,
Its silver glow will shine.
No moment early, none too long,
It moves by perfect line.
The tree that grows, slow but tall,
Knows not the race of time.
Each ring within, each branch it calls,
A testament sublime.
The rain that falls upon dry fields,
Arrives when most is needed.
Each drop restores, each blade it heals,
In time, its work succeeded.
A dream pursued may seem delayed,
But patience is its key.
In perfect time, its course is laid,
And it comes naturally.
For everything has its own pace,
A season and a rhyme.
It all unfolds with quiet grace,
And happens in due time.
Leaps not before it’s taught.
In due time, wings strong and right,
It soars with fearless thought.
The flower blooms when dawn has come,
Its petals wide and bright.
Not rushed by day, nor pressed by sun,
But opens when the time is right.
The moon will rise when day is done,
Its silver glow will shine.
No moment early, none too long,
It moves by perfect line.
The tree that grows, slow but tall,
Knows not the race of time.
Each ring within, each branch it calls,
A testament sublime.
The rain that falls upon dry fields,
Arrives when most is needed.
Each drop restores, each blade it heals,
In time, its work succeeded.
A dream pursued may seem delayed,
But patience is its key.
In perfect time, its course is laid,
And it comes naturally.
For everything has its own pace,
A season and a rhyme.
It all unfolds with quiet grace,
And happens in due time.
©A. Derek Catalano/ChatGPT
