Time is that limner
Whose every stroke
Is a story
Dipped in the colour of
An abstruse reality
And a known enigma.
Unforgetable astral faces_
Whose pellucidity rankles
The make belief peace of the heart_
Find a vantage display at its canvas.
It prevaricates with its abstract art;
Boorishly drawn circles
Which encircle the existence,
And finical love
For the welter of lines,
That never intersect
Yet pierce through, eternally.



2 thoughts on ““TIME”

  1. So you simultaneously covered the flow and the circles,
    like the river flowing into a lake,
    like lake casting the ripples…
    like ripples attracting and repelling the dreams…
    like dreams are mixing nostalgia and possibilities!
    “Time” indeed. 🙂

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