The Tides Of Time Poem by Pedro Cescon

If time was but a lake,
Instead of that sea-like ways,
Perhaps, then, we could make
A better use of all our days,

Tides of Time are quite unique,
As though it shares sea's tide's traits,
Of being quite intermitent streak,
And bearing infinite fates,

Though we think there's a past,
It is ethereal in essence,
As a wave that was cast,
And suffered evanescence,
...
You think is there but didn't last,
Only left obsolescence,
And a memory of its crest,
That will die in senescence,

If is for fututure that you see,
Neither this is quite real,
It is unpredictable as can be
The tide's next reveal,
...
It lacks a proper key
To show what does conceal,
Is unpredictable as the sea,
And as so is quite surreal,

Present is your last chance
To what you can attach to,
Though if you cast detailed glance,
You might catch a strange clue,
...
And if you get the right stance
You will see present untrue,
For when the present commence,
Second later went through,
...
It's past already, hence,
Like the tides of Big Blue,

Planet, insect and star,
Machine, person and my rime,
Thought, feeling and scar,
Music, screech, howl and chime,
God, soul and avatar,
Speech, drawing, movie, mime,
...
All together, all at par,
Swimming in Tides of Time