TIME-THE VILLAIN

Beneath the strangling hands of time
Their frail beatings stench and quake
Their soul, their will, their lethal arms
Playthings panting, helpless and mute

Wounds split opened, vibrant scars
Seconds pulling the puppet’s string
Their present when the pendulum strikes
Stirs away hopes, those hesitant strokes

Pasts fretting the oblivion’s curse
Fidgeting future, steps unsteady
Harsh time, he’s a compulsive villain
The cunning knife of a callous world.

Mortal lives are its sharpened edge
Youth and aged, tender and stale
Shedding the dreams of its faithful slaves
Weak as they are, the knife cuts through.

(Men are helpless in the hands of ‘Time’)