Time's Traverse

Time is a chain flow

Witnessed in the present

Emerging from the fountain of future,

With its glittering colors,

The stream of dreams,

The harbinger of good fortunes,

Filled with high expectations

Of the sown seeds

To give high yielding to the farmer,

Of the efforts made

To result in fruitful results

In the present, once the future,

All seem empty, dry, and mundane

Especially in this hostile world

To see the crops

Dried, or washed away in floods,

To reap the dreamed fruits

The gusty wind, its rage is furious

Made them fall into the dust,

The glow in the face

Appears in woes and throes

In faded hues

All bitter experiences

All stark realities

To merge and store in the past

They are in mind, though in love or not

The past is the ocean of the past,

Merged it in flow, the river of the present,

The ocean-past recurs as the clouds of the future.

Published

Creation and Criticism 

Joint Issue 20 & 21 Jan-Apr 2021 Vol. 6