Time
An entity; ever-present and over-whelming,
unstoppable, uncontrollable.
She mocks us,
not understanding why,
we try, without success, to speed her up and slow her down,
to grasp her in our clutches,
to overpower and outrun her.
Her course is fixed,
and as the grains of sand diminish,
She watches, so intently,
as our lives progress,
She wonders;
why we submit to irrelevance,
why let Her pass us by,
so occupied with nothingness, our lives they dwindle to an end.
As a ship sails for home,
She follows her own course;
undeterred by wasted life and unforgiving love;
crushed hopes or lost innocence.
Like grains of sand swept up by the wind,
we float away,
no footprints left behind, no imprint on the world,
our Time is up,
She must go on,
for Her course is fixed.
rate this poem: 
(4 votes, average poem rating: 3.5 out of 5)
No Comments
Be the first to comment!