Poem: Time

As a belief we measured it precise…

an inanimate point unfolding,

never on our side,

that inanimate point,

surely has evolved,

It takes us down the hesitant path,

of dreams of its continuation,

Infinite they say, I cannot agree

I say without hesitation…




I wrote this out of anger after my father passed away in 1995 from cancer. Thanks for reading it.


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