Near Time’s still waters


On a bright blue day,

I see time fly.

Reflected on the river’s shiny waters,

Onto my eye.

Scoop into my hands,

I hold my past,

A memorabilia, a proof,

Of times when I had a life.

Still as time, the water flows,

In it, I see me change, I see me grow.

Overhead, the flowers bloom and dry,

First pale, and then green, the leaves turn.

The roots inch towards me,

As if to cajole and caress,

To break me out of my reverie,

To shake the calmness, put away the misery.

Spring turns autumn, and then winter springs,

Unmoving I lay, with time, in sync.

I move, I change; I flow with the waters

Yet on the banks, I consummate my marriage with Hindsight.

The roots finally pull me out

And tuck me under their wings,

Blindfolded, in its shadowy night

A green crow amidst the greens, my sole witness.

Opened, I did, my mouth

I croaked, but the crow spoke

Lifted its wing, and pointed at the red sun

And the black moon, it was hiding behind.

Cried, the white clouds and thundered,

Cried, they, for their black peers, and the fair maid.

The thunder, poignantly sweet to my ears,

A tear rolled and rippled the clean waters.

I woke up, Nostalgia lay beside me,

Unmoving in death, lifeless and unseeing.

With a beating heart, that Hindsight broke.

Time was the catalyst, the perpetual villain of yore.

I blinked, another drop rippled the water

The moon turned red, the sun welcomed the dark

I blinked, the crow flew into the clouds, white,

The roots cleared, and shone blinding yellow light.

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