TIme Flies

Nesting feign moments in droplets,
As if they were birds,
Halting them to stiff torrents  
As proved much by dreads,

Blaming the hour glass glide
Imprisoning their passages for being so wide,
Haunting the clock’s hand
For always running on time’s errand,

This moment we are in is vain,
Because it’s not the same we are in again,
Every second unsatisfyingly hungry,
Consuming with appetite- moments within time’s boundary,

Innocent seasons,
Drowning in figures of dates, months & years without reasons,
Fulfilling the prophecies of those passive calendar printings,

I thought your mother just received,
How come such a son she had conceived?
It’s normal for her about labor’s time to groan,
But, you are already so grown,

What has befalling my vision?
Aren’t these grey hairs?
Is this sight or time confusion?
Why is it now burial affairs?

It’s been decades seemingly like ten days now,
We vividly remember our ancestors,    
Is this time-nature’s oath or our vow?
That has brought this vanity upon us,

Every time we arrive,
We just fill in this vacuum as we dive,
So we don’t see the emptiness echoing our vain.

Time really does flies,
Not even as fire-flies,
Not as birds in view,
Not with wings they flew,
But, with diligent response to every beat that comes from our hearts.

WRITTEN BY:
Nameless Calvary