I often get lost in the sands of time
In the long gone past of melody and rhyme,
When Time meant nothing nor did its passing
When the bells of old had the happiness chime.

When shadows of the long gone distant past
Their lengthening reminders now gently cast,
There’s an eerie feeling of impermanence
Like nothing’s going to forever last.

Why, O why, do I get carried away
By swirling winds that only games play,
With me now, then blowing against
Wayward, the mortal story shall I say.

The air’s heavy and so is the heart
The Sun’s the same but not my start
For, the lithe spirit of the yesteryears
At the end of time plays no part.

Life’s a Play, a game of Chess
A Stage of both defeat and success,
These two words of little import
That turn happy lives into a web of mess.

The stages and pages and phases of life
The struggles, the battles, the moments of strife,
The same for all who set foot on Earth
The Silver Spoon and  the Carving Knife.

The clarity of mind and its fogginess
The unkind heart that seeks forgiveness,
The Saint, the Sinner, the losing Winner
All a part of an inglorious gloriousness.

Live our lives we all must
Can we not live them, just,
Why break ‘em down, why analyze
The freshest iron too will, one day, rust.

Why swing from Hope to Despair, Ashok
The warmth of Spring you will soon, soak
Save the best for the last, friend
No one wears the eternal cloak.

(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)