Of Time and Transience

The wispy cobwebs glitter momentarily in the sunlight, before slipping into oblivion. The breeze that brought in news of warm days and clear skies dies away, only to be reborn as the storm that claims many a life, wrecking havoc, shattering dreams and splitting shadows that stood together, into masses of meat, clothes, thoughts and words. Wars that united nations and pacified rebels and insomniacs pass by the house of the Widow; her ear-splitting cries going unheeded. But the clock chimes on, regardless.

The gold-encrusted pendulum swings on, taking in the sights and sounds of a dying humanity – but never stopping to check itself or pull back a few seconds, saving the little girl the loss of her doll, or the Mother, the loss of a soul. Each second is born anew, pure and unadulterated, unaffected by the ones that have passed or the ones to come. Each moment is unlike another the world has ever seen, springing fresh air from the lungs of infants and urging the frail old man to let out his last. The scarred glass face watches as its hands move around, waiting for the children to grow, and the garden roses to wither. The clock is witness to everything that man sees, smells and hears in the world and smiles in its own mystic way, listening to men talk on love and nature and the glorified past, knowing fully well that the beauty of the things that surround, shall enchant him only so long as he wishes to be enchanted; that the clear pool that he eulogized today would be cursed tomorrow, for swallowing his son and taking with it, a part of his life too. The time-keeper gathers dust as it sits by the cupboard, unnoticed, uncared for. Its still firm hands sweep across its inscrutable face, removing the scars of the past and bringing forth the joys of the future.

But the clock has its time too, and meets its end with dignity. The windings that moved the gears of happiness and the chains of sorrow resign; their role taken over by fresh faces that push the seconds through just as well, pulling the strings that control man’s actions, thoughts and feelings.

Sometimes one wonders why man puts himself through the trauma of watching the clock, willing the minutes to melt past; awaiting his own end. Man has tried for long to make Time yield to him, but the truth remains that he shall but be a mere puppet of his fate dictated by the moving hands. But Time, wise as she is, smiles again, reaffirming that man’s being is fuelled by her own; her ulterior motives faded in her own passing, pulling mankind along warped space, towards the Judgment they face together, with none but each standing as proof of the other’s existence.

 Maybe in the end, only Time will tell.

Justice and Beyond

Once again she stood by her own
The friendship: the stillness and she had borne –
 Her soul mate in times of need,
Comforting and consoling her over her deed.
Yet again, the men clad in dirty green
Had brought to her another – Oh! Dozens she had seen
Hooded men in black, with eyes misty and throats dry
Gasping about their children, struggling to muffle a cry.
Held them all in her arms, she had
Caressing them softly, whispering there was nothing so bad
About the world they were to step into.
She could sense them sob, she could see them move
Their tender lips parting to tell her what they knew
Of the world – its sorrows plenty and joys few.
“Tell me more” – she would say
But the earth beneath them would give way
And the soul with whom the world she had shared
Would leave her weeping and sad.
“Why do they do this?” she asked her friend
For he was the wisest for company, the Lord could ever send.
“They kill for pleasure, and for greed they kill
And blame their brothers, who would share their will.
They say, my dear, that the Law is blind
Little they know of us who weep, for we are kind.
But come a day there shall, when Man and his sons
Will embrace one another and put down their guns.
And beg your pardon, and of the mighty Lord
And free thy silken braided cord
Of the dead in the ground it has sown
And of the deadly knot for years it has worn.”
 And thus spoke he, and blended into the cold
Leaving the noose and her feelings atop the pole.