What is Time, I often wonder
As by it I’m torn asunder
Then, whole again, willy-nilly
Thor, back with his roaring thunder.

Time,
Deriving existence from me
As I do mine from it,
We tread the paths, the same lanes
As one,
Some dark but, mostly, lit.

Logos, Ethos, Pathos, Kairos
Different faces of Rhetoric, facets of Time
Sometimes Jack, sometimes Jill
O, for the magic of that nursery rhyme.

Time is artful, Time’s a rogue
Gentle and then ‘tis brutal too
But, that is Me and, quite, honestly
That is also the one called,
You.

That soaring bird without wings
The one that leaps into the skies
Then, often to the knees brings
Those that practice deceit and lies
Time,

That Nightingale of melodies
Some uplifting, some ecstatic
Some, wrapped in triumphant Tragedy
And,
Moments that carry ‘
“Eternal Magic”.

Time,
Noble, kind and caring
Smiling, laughing, crying too,
Shedding tears in harmony
In sympathy,
My Time
With me.

Time,
The resident Infidel
Like the rays of the glorious Sun,
With me daily Dawn to Dusk
And then..........
Who knows of
The whims of Night,
Where and When
What Destiny,
What lies hidden in its folds,
All known only to
Time.

(The author is a prolific poet who has over 30 poetry books to his credit. He can be reached at ashoksawhny06@gmail.com/ www.ashoksawhny.com)