Time

Contemporary Poetry Anthology by Santosh Kumar Biswa

Time

Let death whang at your threshold, Or quietly fare and bid for you whatever, Do by life ere you induce to the cemetery, So wise this fugitive journey without balk That grants you no rue for what is done. The time at hand won't await but you should, ‘Cause when it dies, it goes to ne'er turn back, Not like the darkness that comes and goes, But for its new accomplishment before That leaves you behind wholly incomplete With burdens in mind that cannot be undone. Neither is it the sinking star that returns Nor the colorized seasons that keep passing, But it's a golden bullet that travels eternally. A stride you lay off, two it motile or greater To let you breed with those undone ones, Never to hitch again, but to tot to the raw. Walk in its tempo to make it your prime, With plans in your cerebral fold to complete, Or just the designs that you can exhibit well.