The Second’s Hand
The Second’s Hand2 mins 445 2 mins 445
I am the second’s hand working more and faster than the hands both of minute & hour. But I have been an underestimated soul for ages. People always count their time by hours & minutes, they barely mention me; still, I try hardest to catch the nano fractions of each & every emotion. I elevate the beauty of a small bud slowly turning into a blooming flower, the moment when a newborn baby witnesses its first ever cry, the tiny ripples of water when a feeble expeditiously hits its surface, the smallest particle of time while wind blows leisurely during summer night, the jiffy gap of the collapsing star touches the soil of earth & the prayer of a girl recalling his father silently watching it.
I put my efforts to turn the happiest canvas of this world into the gloomiest one, touching brush with a tint of a darkest shade; I protest the longest hours of sobs containing my lacs of swirling, I cry for the girl hospitalized for some million of seconds till she got raped miserably, I shriek for the deadliest seconds of a farmer’s suicide due to a horrible drought season, I bleed the entire time of a dreadful bomb-explosion & a little more eradication of humanity, & of course I die each seconds with an unhappy news of a new death.This is my lifestyle, this is the way I weave smallest particles of time with my continuous spirals; when it causes happiness & I dance in euphoria while swirling first in my orbit & sometimes when it destructs hushedly, I stitch my ways again to repair fast with a heavy heart.