Energy dwindles, weakens the frame,
Low effort turns the wheel the same.
Potential dormant, a power at rest,
Refusal to move fails the test.
Stagnation; is a word that clings to the still,
Yet life is never stagnant, it bends to will.
For only in stone, or lifeless things,
Does stagnation hold, grip, and cling?
A ticking clock, a creeping age,
Man, beast, time turns the page.
Misconception lurks in stagnant sight,
For in the living, there's forward or flight.
Day by day, as the earth spins around,
Years roll on, and a rhythmic sound.
No spot is truly stagnant, no life is still,
Retardation is misnamed as stagnation's will.
To stand and stay, not progress, some say,
Is mere refusal, a slipping away.
Backwards we go when motion lacks,
Stagnation fades as regression tracks.
Stagnant, a term for the non-living alone,
Even a blind man ages, though still as stone.
Age defies, it breaks the chain,
No stagnancy here, only loss or gain.
Growth ceases, and old age dawns,
Yet stagnation never truly spawns.
In life, there's no stagnant line,
Only forward or decline, divine.
Stagnation is a fallacy in life's dance,
Non-living only in its trance.
In flesh, in spirit, health may wane,
But life resists, it grows, it strains.
The truth of life, the essence we see,
Is movement, change, in all that be.
No stagnant stage, only paths to tread,
Towards light or shadow, forward led.