Time Poem by Birbal Singh
Time
Art thou a winged thief?
As bards have called thee.
Or as called that great scientist,
An illusion.
Whetever you are, flowing like a stream
take everything with you.
Dry leaves flow on surface,
With downs and ups and downs,
'till, thy wreched waves
tear them,
Break them,
Make them too heavy to go on.
They sink,
Never to be seen again,
Rest float on.
Compelled to follow thy curses lead.
Lost ones, loved ones, sunk one,
Live, perhaps, under thy surface
doomed to never come
up.
Thought provoking, focused and factual. A work of an intricate mind. Thanks for sharing and do remain enriched.
" Art thou a winged thief? " Yes. It looks like so, the thief of leaves; sometimes it plucks out the buds and lets them go on...
A fine start with a nice poem, Birbal. You may like to read my poem, Love and Lust. Thanks
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 11:18:32 PM # 1.0.0.1119
If time is relative then perhaps all the good movements are not lost.