How ages layer up, on time’s tomb, to retell man
“Needless, your chase, your regret, your despair
Not long will last, your passage, in time’s caravan
Dare you, try to warp, time’s laissez-faire!”

Time plays on the fear, of a brittle bloke
Whose die is cast, by destiny!
Call it time’s malice, or masterstroke
It’s a distance, man can’t span, just see…helplessly…

…thru splintered eyes, a fiesta of longings
And a phantom of hope, future, we call
How heavy on heart, are time’s belongings
Recalls strewn o’er distances, not reachable, at all!

Or time had to be, universe’s lasting flaw, world’s quandary!
And man, a beggar of, time’s pittance
Still, sweet is the bliss, of time’s vagary…
…each lost dream, far-flung memory…a mean mean, divine decree
How hollow would be, man’s poetry…When Time’s…No More…A Distance…!

© 2016 Vikas Chandra