Signed by Time

Ageing, as this poem says, is not something bad. It does not spoil a person or make them weak. It is life slowly writing its story on the body, just like wisdom was written long ago on palm leaves and carefully preserved.

Wrinkles or every line on the skin comes from living through life. They come from working hard, waiting patiently, staying silent when needed, and standing under the heat of difficult days. Each line is formed because life was faced, not avoided.

As the years pass, the face begins to look like a long journey. Like a pilgrimage, it is shaped by patience, effort, and endurance, not by speed or haste.

What looks like fading is actually something meaningful. It is a sacred mark made by kāla—time itself. Time gently shapes the body, the way a prayer is pressed into soft clay with care.

Nothing important is lost as we grow older. Instead, the body carries a quiet sign,
showing that the soul has walked its path fully, truthfully, and with courage.

In the end, growing older is not about losing anything important. It is about carrying proof that life was truly lived. Wrinkles or every line, every change, quietly show the work of time and the strength of the journey. What seems to fade is only the outer surface, while meaning settles deeper within. The body becomes a gentle record, saying without words that the soul walked its path with patience, honesty, and courage, and reached this point whole.