The stopwatch was set,
The finish line drawn,
The time count started,
The day we were born.
The clock is since ticking,
The time digits rolling,
Unaware, we are fast approaching,
The temination of our frenetic racing.
The timer was fixed on the invisible mode,
So that we do not get unnecessarily perturbed,
As to when we shall reach the end of the road,
Which the Refree deliberately kept unmarked.
The Master knows the time and the space
To be traversed individually by each one of us,
A long whistle will be blown to end the race,
Our lives' fanfare will come to an end, thus!
Dhaka
Copyright Reserved
29 October 2017
Thanks to you too, Geetha Jayakumar, for so kindly reading my poem and leaving an appreciative comment. Much inspired by your comment.
Thank you very much for your short but concise comment, @Tom Allport. I have just read your poem " Die" and commented on it. It's a sheer coincidence that both of our poems are written on 'death'!
Beautiful poem. Be it in sport or in our life, unsure of when we will touch the final line. Loved reading it. Thanks for sharing.
a poem of knowing yet not knowing when our true time runs out? .........well written Khairul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The Master knows the time and the space To be traversed by each one of us, A long whistle will be blown to end the race, Our lives' fanfare will come to an end, thus! Only the great and Almighty knows the time and space. tony