The Beginning And The End Of All
Hidden blossoms, they will bloom; just how many? And how soon.
Every midnight, every moon; the world is glowing soft with words.
Time ticks slowly across the world; moth’s fly slowly as it moves on.
The minutes to hours, hours to years; not a single second holds a tear.
The light passes, time after time, people watch; and still aren’t blind.
The darkness fades, comes back again; centuries and centuries; all the same.
The time continues year after year, decades have past; so many seers.
Colors transition, transitioned are the colors; we’ve learned to overhear secrets so near.
Disappear, disappear, disappear. So close, yet far, and nowhere near.
Can you hear the time alas? Listen close as it flows past.
The world is open, it’s so vast; many days are not heartless-ed.
Stay, sway, twirl and say; nothing here is yet at bay.
We bet, we guess, we mope and wander; yet we still don’t know and ponder.
We’ve all wandered here, seen this there, all high above; projected in the air.
Nightmare after nightmare, we’ll all stare; as it’s the final day we all share…
Poetry
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Very well depicted truth that time flows unabated and the cycles of day and night too . Rhyme and Rhythm well knit, good metaphor intertwined the writing is quite appealing. I like it………..kranand
Thank you. I enjoyed writing this poem, as it shows the truth behind time and its endless cycle upon reality itself.