Musing 151 Poem by shuvo chakraborty

If the minutes are too short to reach the heaven special
Then what the use of time behemoth imposed upon the mankind?
Those kidding with time are often rebuked for missing the ranks
Wherewithal they would be pushed upwards to beat the kites,
Those running proper in allegiance with their wrist watches
To complete the rounds ear marked for successes before the sun down,
Both will be home returned after the dusk depleting their blood precious.
Are they too tried to shape the dreams of night infallible and magnificent
For building the palaces upon the air in accordance with their reaches
By the hands caressing the hairs soft flying out the time splitting?