Image courtesy: fineartamerica.com
I wish time stops,
and reason with itself for some rest,
or a detour for the world to catch up.
To dislodge zeal swaying in present, scavenging the past,
docile and let away tickings stop
for a while and more.
Preposterous for myself and others,
to catechize for rewind of chronolgy,
for it may hike the turmoil of identities
myself was and myself is.
Scared and tensed to do a repeat,
inasmuch abide the sole inference,
I don’t want time and tide to flew back.
So hither I pray,
plus pledge upon myself as a droplet
of sand pinned to oblivion of hourglass,
that this downfall had ebbed away.
In sea of time disguised as fanatic delirium, under stormy starless night,
tied to wheel of present,
lay myself entreating versus pounding waves of moments next.
Had only the fierceness of time draped as waves and thunders broke off,
jump unto the silent blackness of sea myself and escape from truth prisoning to future. I wish, for reasons surplus, time had stopped once and forever.
THE INVISIBLE WRITER 