Time
With the darkest nights
And the infinite days,
With the myriad seasons
Unceasingly she flows
At her own divine pace.
With our forefathers in past
And us at present,
With the generations in future
Unceasingly she strides
At her own divine pace.
Seconds spun into minutes
And yarns of hours and days,
And then years, decades and centuries
Unceasingly she weaves
At her own divine pace.
From eternity she emerged
And will travel immortally,
Waiting for none
Unceasingly she ticks
At her own divine pace.
-----------Renuka Krishnaraja------
Copyright © Renuka Krishnaraja | Year Posted 2015
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