Time is buried everyday,
So we live.
We live through its death, and kill it we must.
For how can that beast which consumes life give
To us, faint of heart, blood that does not rust?

But what is this time but the lies of clocks!
And what may ages past tell us of now?
Is not the now, the present, the time—
Locks:
Strands of hair falling eternally…
(Hmm… How?)

The Ecclesiastes warned us of time:
Time that will show us nothing new, but plans
In repetitions.
Sophists of our time
Are Athenians and Ionians.

Age witnessed the pale sea drown in its blue…
Misery saturates, with naught to do.

Shuweikh,
March, 2023.