With so many moving parts

Life is like a flurry of darts

We aim for health and wealth

Those thoughts operate in stealth

Time likes to paint creases

Turning curated beauty into pieces

Time isn’t moved by any plea

Standing firm as a deep-rooted tree

The body’s magically assembled

Full of moving parts which tremble

Throbbing with life, dancing in place

Wrapped by the skin, there isn’t space

When mind and body click into gear

They become, more than a souvenir

Moving as one, aware we become

Of the stillness, to which we succumb