Painting Courtesy: Pinterest
You touch everything;
Yet you remain untouched;
What is the mystery are you, O time?
Some say you exist;
Some say you are not;
Yet you are the witness;
Of every movement;
What is the mystery are you, O time?
You, the only witness of all desires;
You, the only predator of all life longings;
You, the only question;
You, the only answer;
What is the mystery are you, O time?
What makes you so patient;
To witness the cosmic play?
What makes you so standstill;
To witness the birth and death of all inclinations?
Who is the progenitor?
And who is progeny under your arms?
What is the mystery are you, O time?
Every shadow of life;
Lives under your yoke;
Each leap of heaven and hell;
Is lead towards your shore;
Each knows you;
Yet forgets you;
What is the mystery are you, O time?
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