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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is my first published material, so feel free to add any criticisms. I love writing, so here we go!

I wrote "Time" when I was one day looking at the clock, with nothing to do, and I was just suddenly and very weirdly reminded of the inevitability of stopping it..

Submitted: December 14, 2009

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 14, 2009






blindingly fast.



agonizingly slow.

He is gold, and infinitely more precious than air..

His wings and hands take flight without a care.

Like an arrow or a bullet, his path is always forward,

QUIET! His silence is total, not a sound heard.

He sees what has been, what is now, and what will pass,

Continuous to flow like the sands of the hourglass.

He is cursed only to witness, as the universe passes,

His song is a ballad of loneliness.

He has no emotion, though his mind is immense,

Counting the numbers of our beginnings and ends.

He wrecks all chaos and crumbles all life,

And yet heals all wounds and dissolves all strife.

His soul is a sailor of universes,

He is in everything, and everything is his.

© Copyright 2018 MikeMagpuyo. All rights reserved.

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