Hands of the Clock
By: CorrectionFluid
The wind goes back and forth
Sunshine rays reflect the meadows
I thank Thee for the gift of the North
And my eyes passed through the windows.
The vast endless skies are peaceful and blue
Plain rustling leaves fell on the ground
A sight of relief follows after the sad hue
And the pain goes round and round.
Nature’s beauty is deteriorating in the urban places
Good thing they preserved the ones in the plain
The city and the rural are two opposite spaces
I’m bothered by this constant bane.
Below, you could see people busying themselves
They appear tiny, just like the ants and elves
Everyone seems preoccupied, rushing for something
Yet do they know where time is coming?
The silhouette of the train, you can see nearby
Shadows were running past the children who lie
Vendors are stealing customers, as if begging for alms
Food for the rumbling stomach, they need, sans the Psalms.
As I glance at those people who walk by
I wonder what keeps them on the go
Suddenly I felt there’s no use to try
Indeed, I am tired of the continuous flow.
Sometimes, I wish for a state of stupor
While serenity brings me to the stream of oblivion
Every day, my pieces were breaking and tore
I wanted to break free – my immediate action.
Ironic, we are turning into hurricanes,
We wish for something, benefiting our own gains
Blinded by selfishness, ignoring those in need
A mouth full of words, a hand lost for deeds.
But I remembered the works that are due
So I shouldn’t take even a single break
The balmy breezes now had left a clue
And the clock tick – tocks again for heaven’s sake.
