Each day a passing cloud

That’s a powerful and evocative piece, Jessy Jacob. I’ve shaped your lines into a poem that preserves the emotional weight and haunting rhythm of your original words, while enhancing the flow and imagery:

Echoes of the Passing Days
by Jessy Jacob (adapted into verse)

Each day, as it quietly slips,
We count it like the end of war�"
Too late to rise, yet early still,
Another day has closed its door.

We write our names on time’s long scroll,
Drawing near, though shadows cling.
War whispers from the corners past,
Its breath upon our everything.

Each day arrives, a silent blow,
We wait, we hush our tender speech.
Love speaks in muted syllables,
As if no pain could ever breach.

We never thought we’d shake or fall,
But sly desire strikes deep and raw.
One year, then two, then ten have gone�"
The ache remains, a silent law.

Humanity lies still, betrayed,
Its death not loud, but slow and wide.
We watched for change, but none appeared,
Just ghosts that never stepped aside.

We died, we passed, we rose anew,
On paths that twisted, turned, and burned.
Yet still they haunt, and still we stand,
Alert, unbroken, never spurned.

Jessy Jacob