The arch of time bends sometimes, unexpectedly.
It finds new paths and meanders like a burgeoning river.
It runs deep and long but surrenders to the sea.
Time is a tough taskmaster.
It teaches hard life lessons.
That nothing lasts forever.
Not the perennial aspiring vines of hope.
Not ambitious, recurring dreams.
Not the ubiquitous musings of the heart.
Not the meanings of words.
Time marches on.
It seldom stops for long at crossroads.
It gives no corners and takes no prisoners.
It is prepared to scold the past;
and frown on the odd footprints.
It stands ready to reshuffle
the decks and find new roads.
even favoured memories become amnesiacs.
They succumb, grow frail, and vague.
Along the way, even familiar sounds lose their melody,
their voices coarsen, and
perfection sours to imperfection.
Perhaps it’s the natural course of time.
To recalibrate, rethink;
and watch yesterday evaporate and fade into irrelevance.
But maybe, in time,
even if old dreams can’t be refurbished and reincarnated like rainbows;
hopefully, at least
the mood music plays on
and on, in the background
long after the dance;
way past the agonizing, deafening silence of silence;
past the raucous roars of restless recurring wishes;
long after the thunderous deluge of anxious prayers subside;
long after the coughing flames
have whispered their last breath.