I shut my eyes
and think for a while
to come to terms
with the changing landscapes of life.
The faces around you change
the memories gradually wane,
whatever is NOW withers away
and only the melancholy remains.
A fragile thing of beauty is Time
that has an essence so sublime,
like a sand that escapes our fist
Time slips away before we realize.
We try to endure
what time contains within its folds
and as life rolls before us,
a few things are remembered,
rest are lost!
We stick to our need
to have something again
which now lie in ruins.
We crib over the lost time
and cogitate upon it
appreciating the joy it brought
to us, at that time.
But hey! let’s assume for a moment
that everything stays permanent.
Would we still admire everything the way we do
when impermanence puts us into chains?
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