Time Traveler


An immortal time traveler, 
I visit placid planets and shining stars
across the inter-stellar space
in the timeless continuum.
I’ve visited many times in disguise
the unique blue planet,
thriving with vibrant earthly life.
   
There, in the distant past eons ago, 
I cherished the flow of geniality air. 
On its affable wings  
I could freely fly like a bird 
across the span of the azure sky 
to the horizon of lilting lands, 
soar alongside of the floating flock 
in the warm space of conviviality. 

It was the chromatic time then,
when in the vibes of vibgyor dawn, 
tinged by the spectral sunbeam, 
I could see the friendly throng 
in the breeze-braced plateau, 
singing together the spring song
of unrestrained intimacy.

In my final visit now,   
I see the shadow of lurking desolation 
creep menacingly close unhindered,
turning the earth’s corners into cages. 
The confined spirits plunging in lone abysses 
stagnate within gripping isolation. 
  
Intolerance weaves threads of hatred 
in the fabric of the scary times.
Innocent blood is shed in madness, 
fanaticism spreads like wild fire. 
Life is splintered by the lancet of chaos
into disposable debris uncared.
In the psychic grip of insolent stress 
the fostered relationships crash.

Before the world order collapses 
I ardently wish the times change. 
The war-tanks become pianos, 
guns transform into harmonic flutes,
deadly arsenals turn harps, 
mercenaries become violins.
They all perform the symphony 
of peace and universal brotherhood.

Before the hourglass breaks, 
let the essence of times change.
The thorns of contempt turn into flowers, 
cactus of hatred changes to olive branch.
Let the crooked minds morph into alchemists, 
make golden strands from rusted fence wire
that will create the garlands,
intertwine the humankind with love.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2024

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George Avatar
November 22, 2024 at 10:28 PM
This is poetry of the first rate. Loved reading it....."The thorns of contempt turn into flowers, cactus of hatred changes to olive branch. Let the crooked minds morph into alchemists, make golden strands from rusted fence wire that will create the garlands,". What lofty vision! Congratulations friend.
Sinha-Roy Avatar
November 23, 2024 at 6:31 AM
Thank you so much for your read and for the wonderful comments.
Davey Avatar
November 22, 2024 at 2:26 PM
This poem just makes you smile the entire time reading it although not the same smile throughout but a smile none the less, congrats on your win
Sinha-Roy Avatar
November 22, 2024 at 6:06 PM
Thank you for your read and comment.l am glad it could make you smile.
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