On Time
On Time
Time makes itself felt
Through hours, minutes,
Seconds,
Days, months and years
But even ages and eons
Are only minimal manifestations
Of time
Time remains incomprehensible
We know that it is there
But we never see its face
Time is the great conjure which produces the pleasures of the world
They are but reflections on the
Glass of time only to drive us astray
We break our heads against shadows
However much we dissect time
We do not reach its heart.
It remains indivisible
It is never dissolved.