Time The Seeker Of Perfection. Poem by Ann Beard

Time was born the seeker of perfection.
the father of all beauty, soft of heart.
passing over years,soiled by rejection
weeping for the creatures torn apart.

Yet mesmerised, time dabbles in creation
delights in sheer magnificence of form.
whilst nature gloating over each fixation
is hailed as fairest mother of them all.

Times haggard features cast into a frown
lives are lost, just striving to survive.
milestones measured by a jewel or gown
whilst predators amass in slick disguise.

Creation sees an infant raised toplunder
contaminate the fields with blood and gore.
The pure of heart plead endlessly for peace,
but greed survives to drives a lust for more.

Yet healing is the promise for tomorrow.
Before it walks a child must learn to crawl
rebirth for every creature will bring wisdom
with earth by far the biggest child of all.


roan copyright © Feb.2018