Eternity

By Me

Written: 16 Sept 2024

In the civilised world, we dwell,

Where time holds sway, a fickle spell.

A constant tick, a racing start,

We’re tethered fast, yet torn apart.

Is it vital, or mere disguise,

A mask to order, to organise?

Seconds, minutes, hours, days—

Does time enrich, or does it haze?

We rush, we hurry—stress prevails,

Afraid to falter, chasing trails.

But what if time’s not what it seems,

A relic born of fractured dreams?

It grants us order, keeps life clear,

Yet lingers close—control or fear?

Was it forged to guide our way,

Or shackle life to fleeting clay?

Perhaps we’ve lost the ancient art,

Of letting life unhurried start.

No need for clocks, no race to run—

Just living life beneath the sun.

Time births impatience, that’s no lie,

A ceaseless need to justify.

Yet nature moves with gentle grace,

Unhurried in its boundless space.

See Earth and sun, the skies, the seas—

They ebb and flow, unbound, at ease.

The creatures thrive, instinct their guide,

Unfettered by time’s shifting tide.

But here we sit, in hurried strife,

Bound by clocks that carve our life.

We struggle in this endless climb—

Could this fixation be our crime?

To free ourselves from time’s tight clasp,

To let the moment freely grasp,

Would life grow simpler, wild, and true?

Or does the answer lie in you?