One day, you will wake up, there will be no more time

By Ashok Silwal

It has no color, no shape, no perfume,
It makes no noise,
Nevertheless, in my heart,
It smells like freshly cut grass,
It looks like a wave of the sea,
It is like a mountain path
That goes up and down,
It is the flame in the fireplace,
It whispers in my ears,
It takes the color of the sun
Then that of the moon….
The TIME…

Sometimes short, sometimes long
Like a rubber band in my heart,
Even if the clock hands
Always turn the same,
Same speed or slowness….

Yes…. why does it so quickly pass
For those who are happy?
And so slowly for those who suffer?
Dumb, deaf, invisible, light…

Always here, side by side with me;
Ahead and behind, above and below.
Some count in hours, in days….
In seconds or centuries;
Some in tears, in joys, in deaths and births,
In life events up and down .

Tomorrow like a rocket backwards
Becomes yesterday..

Sunrises after sunsets,
Sunsets after sunrises.
The Story going on between conquests and defeats,
And the trees that grow;
Children who are already adults,
The wrinkles that mark the eyes and the lips;
The flowers that lose their petals,
The colors that fade,
The shoes that wear out.
Nostalgic smiles looking at the pictures
Searching the sound of a voice,
The scent of a perfume
The TIME….cruel and comforter,
Sometimes a slap, sometimes a caress..

And one day, you will wake up:
There will be no more time….

‘SEIZE THE DAY!’
Time has no color, no shape, no perfume,
But it keeps running, flying,
It can’t wait, it doesn’t stop,
And soon it is inexorably too late…
Despite my heart being full
Of warming memories and sparkling hopes.

‘STRIKE THE IRON WHILE IT IS HOT’
YES… deeply and happily
enjoying the gifts
The TIME is giving me.

…

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