PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The clock ticks across the waves of time,

I count them, watch them, wishing I could 

change the course of time,

Crest, trough. Rise, sink. Tide in. Tide out.

I fell from the cliff into the waters below,

freezing, sinking; the roots I had gone.

All things blurred; salt steeping into wounds,

I'm a relic of an era long gone. 

And I can't turn back time. 

The storm rages on and I suffocate

in the depths, dark and deep, 

dislodged out of time, 

days gone. Dimmed. 

And I can't turn back time. 

A pyre, past lit, 

A catalyst to combust or

A path, of possibilities, of 

probabilities. 

Time consumes, the tide comes.

The fire within, held close and tight,

The only thing to keep warmth, 

Stare at the fiery beacon, 

and learn to yield the inferno. 

Don't let the flame consume you, 

Lest it burn you back to the depths,

Don't the fire go out,

Lest time claims you forever. 

Mimic the light in the distance,

so far gone and stolen away,

To a place that cannot see backwards,

But still a beacon for pathfinders,

And I'll use time instead. 

Burn, contort, shape, and meld

the future to your will, and 

blazing into the future is now 

all I can do.