Time, Or The Lack Thereof
You watch, helpless, as time passes you by
Dressed in sheer petticoats of Seconds
And overskirts of Minutes
Swathed in a swirling cloak of silken Hours
You watch her dance past you
Gracefully in circles, never missing a beat
You try to catch hold of her, grabbing at her waist
But she prances away from you, a smile playing at her lips
Slipping through your outstretched fingers like a breeze
And where she once was, she can no longer be seen
You are left yearning for what she once was
Resenting her, yourself, the world for what she is
Fearful of what she may be tomorrow
After all, how much of herself will she offer up to you?
Author's Note: Written on the back of a Sanskrit question paper, rather dear to me, this one.
Earlier this week a 23 year old intern, a paramedic, was gang raped in a chartered bus. She's got no intestines anymore, she's on a ventilator and she's fighting for her life. Pray for her, please.
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