The hand of the clock,
Moves about,
Never stops.
'Cause it is made to ,
Actualise time,
Into reality for us.
And there lies the undermining fact,
The obstinance of time.
The jewel which becomes a sword,
If we losen out in time.
Life is that way too.
The obstinance dithering
With the risks and the wait,
With the doubts and the faith,
With the actions and constance.
For the clock of life,
We are the hands,
We just need to,
Keep moving on.
To actualise life into reality.
It's being and the obstinate life,
Which won't give up,
Even when,
It seems almost lost.
YOU ARE READING
ACHES [Wattys Winner 2015]
PoetryAin't we drowning but still floating in our complexities of love and hatred, happiness and sorrow & life and the journey. Short stories and poetry about true living i.e living through an ache and coming out of it. Want to meet my words in versatile...
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