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------