I am so conscious of you,
Every move you make
Ever so slightly.
Nothing changes in a moment,
But everything has
In just a few.
No one realizes your cruel game.

You come and go.
I watch you walk to me.
I watch you leave.
I’ve never watched you stay.
Why do you play with me this way?

Most times you’re the same.
I’ve been there with you,
So I shrug apathetically
When you arrive again.
Sometimes out of nowhere,
I realize so much has changed.
Again sometimes,
I recognize that it’s just you
Wearing something new.
You know how much I hate it,
When I spot the tiring patterns of our games? 

I need to learn to let you go.
I need to learn to not expect a thing—
You bore me when I am eager to be surprised;
Your surprises make me squirm
when I had begun to be comfortable being bored—
I need to learn to embrace you when you come.
Fuck. Tell me how it’s done.
Let’s play this game fair for once.

Suffering is momentary, you say.
For how long do you stretch it!
Bliss is eternal, you say.
For how little you let me glimpse at it!
How mean are you!
I could hold you by the collar, and beat you
Till I hear your ticking stop.
But I know it’ll only keep me stuck
In a horrible limbo,
Having neither won nor lost,
Simply debarred from playing the game.

You make me burn.
I die a little
Everyday, and everyday
I choose to rise.
When everything possible has been said and done,
All I can think is: What is next?
Yeah, curiosity kept this cat alive.
Show me what you’ve got up your sleeve.
Teach me that magic trick!
At least tell me, how do you manage to keep this game fun?

All at once,
You erase and create.
You damn me to an exile
Till these scars from the old games fade.
You visit to wreck me once more
When you decide I haven’t learnt from the mistakes I’ve made.
No next levels, huh?
Not till I have cleared all the ones before..
Well, that’s fine with me.
Let’s just play.

After all this while,
I only hold a blurry dream
Of what could have been
And what was.
I only bear a faint imagination
Of what would be
And what will be.

Really, I don’t mind that you play me.
You are simple.
(Ha! And also perfect continuous!)
You’re awesome, in the truest sense of the word.
I marvel at the grace with which you pull it all off.

Don’t mock me.
I’ll understand you one day.
I’ll watch you come, go and stay
All at once.
The falling grains of sand won’t seize me in this beautiful terror.
I’ll be above it.. So over it!
I’ll lie with you and watch everyone play this game, wretchedly.
Just like I’ve done.
Just like I had done.
Just like I will have done.
I’ll watch the tide turning in its terrifying beauty.

I’ll see you.



9 thoughts on “Time

  1. Fantastic poem! Beautiful, soulful, contemplative, and dark in parts! If I am correctly interpreting the end, it’s a reference to Death right?

    Anyways, it reminds me of this extract from a book:
    >> “We live in time – it holds us and molds us – but I never felt I understood it very well. And I’m not referring to theories about how it bends and doubles back, or may exist elsewhere in parallel versions. No, I mean ordinary, everyday time, which clocks and watches assure us passes regularly: tick-tock, click-clock. Is there anything more plausible than a second hand? And yet it takes only the smallest pleasure or pain to teach us time’s malleability. Some emotions speed it up, others slow it down; occasionally, it seems to go missing – until the eventual point when it really does go missing, never to return.”
    ― Julian Barnes, The Sense of an Ending


    1. Nice! I like the extract!

      And about the end, I didn’t mean death.
      I just dream of a super-aware state of being alive.. where I am detached, but not dead. Definitely not dead.

      But I can see why you made that conclusion.
      Hahaha.. fun! You made me see my own poem differently. Thanks.


      1. It seems I have a darker and more contemplative mind than yours! 😛
        But the interpretation of the ending as an allusion to Death actually makes all the more sense, since it follows logically and naturally that after Death time ceases to affect us, assuming we are suspended above it all in the form of some weird unexplained form of cosmic energy into the nothingness of time and space. It’s somewhat poetic as well – that the only chance we get to understand and perhaps beat “Time” and it’s Machiavellian machinations is when it no longer has any bearings on us, and we become merely an indifferent spectator, bearing witness to it’s foibles.


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