When Time itself, for each of us, comes with its limits clear
How then can Love ever be, infinite, perennial, tell me,  my dear

Nothing in the world is heavenly nor Angel- like, we know
What is verdant today, must tomorrow, in dust sleep, I fear

The grass outside my window is often green and bright, but
It turns to the colour brown, melds with dust, is what I see here

A tiny drop of water from the eyes that are, but, moist
Conceals the sense of bereavement in the shedding of that tear

No storm, no tsunami, no typhoon, by whatever name you like
Can match the hurricane that strikes a heart’s lamp or be ever as severe

Give advice, ‘tis always welcome but, only when ‘tis duly sought
Never wise, O preaching Philosopher, to unilaterally interfere

There is only this moment that you can, truly, call your own
Live it, spend it, as you wish, choose your own gear

Remember always, O dear friends, we’re actors on Life’s stage
Always be who you are, never different must you appear.

(The author is a prolific poet who has over 40 poetry books to his credit. He can be reached at ashoksawhny06@gmail.com/ www.ashoksawhny.com)