Friday, December 25, 2015


The puzzles of time are too divine to comprehend,
It’s an anagram of the past, yet a synonym of the future,
A tale written in letters so different from each other,
In colors so vivid, a spectrum of hues clustered,
The beginning is always so strange and subtle,
An aura of mystery lining the prophecies made,
People so similar and people so different,
Bend under the force, irrespective, or they don’t,
Its two smiles at the finish, with many more to come,
Or a river flowing, tracing a new path in the sand,
We stood so close, we stood as one,
Yet far enough to hold the both of us upright,
Fighting the storms, and rowing through the whirlpools,
We savor the still seas as they pass by,
We have a reason to stand by; we have a reason to believe,
To wait, to feel, and to allow the hands of time to race ahead,
Everything’s so tough till it’s hidden in the bag,
And then it’s just a walk in the park.

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