The wheel of time,
Moving on and on,
Has power beyond,
To vanish even the names,
Of thy great kings and kingdoms.

Oh! Don’t worry,
Of your petty wounds,
Although they appear big,
The healing’s only far,
At the spin of the wheel,
Of the time machine!

For it heals all,
And believe me not,
Look within,
In the memory hall,
And thus realize,
You had wounds many,
But now faded enough,
To even survive.

Wounds and time are,
Rose and spike,
As time is to heal wounds,
And wounds make time,
For if wounds are gone,
Then who bother of time and tide,
This moment become the eternity,
No wounds, no time,
And more the time,
More wounds to be healed.


P.S: Thank you and deep gratitude for reading my poems. It’s a newly discovered talent in me, maybe not rhyming and good enough, but I found poetry is the best medium to express our emotions. And that’s the reason I started writing them, it frees up my mind, relaxes me, and the creative expression is deeply fulfilling. I mostly write with my feelings and experience, and not to fill the word limit, so have to include these lines in every poem as they are shorter than one one-fifty words to publish. Accept my gratitude (although I don’t have much).

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