The world is nothing but a mirage within a short parenthesis
The foolish dwell upon it and the wise detach itself from it
You dwell on the past, resent the present and await the future.
Your heart lingers on what could have been and questions on what is to come.
Procrastination takes it away, yet we all claim we have it - time.
It is the unmeasurable river which flows, yet numbered are the ones who swim through it and let it take them towards wisdom.
We allow what contemplates within to dwell over the meadows which could have been sown
instead of being the seed and watching ourselves flourish.
It will fly past you like the swift eagle and tell you that it should've been caught when it was too late.
It is as abundant as love; unchanged and undivided
yet we choose to let it pass like the autumn leaf in the wind and fail to encompass it so we can fly with it in unison.
Your soul will slow down on it's path during the night and unfold like the rose while you pray in silence and rejoice with souls that pray like you
but it will lose itself again when the sun meets the horizon and will claim it has time yet again.
It will make you realise that the song in your soul should've been sung with the people and not have been like the songbird in the cage.
And as your soul contemplates its sins in that dark, silent night and pleads for the doors not to be shut
It will find and realise
that there is yet time..
The foolish dwell upon it and the wise detach itself from it
You dwell on the past, resent the present and await the future.
Your heart lingers on what could have been and questions on what is to come.
Procrastination takes it away, yet we all claim we have it - time.
It is the unmeasurable river which flows, yet numbered are the ones who swim through it and let it take them towards wisdom.
We allow what contemplates within to dwell over the meadows which could have been sown
instead of being the seed and watching ourselves flourish.
It will fly past you like the swift eagle and tell you that it should've been caught when it was too late.
It is as abundant as love; unchanged and undivided
yet we choose to let it pass like the autumn leaf in the wind and fail to encompass it so we can fly with it in unison.
Your soul will slow down on it's path during the night and unfold like the rose while you pray in silence and rejoice with souls that pray like you
but it will lose itself again when the sun meets the horizon and will claim it has time yet again.
It will make you realise that the song in your soul should've been sung with the people and not have been like the songbird in the cage.
And as your soul contemplates its sins in that dark, silent night and pleads for the doors not to be shut
It will find and realise
that there is yet time..
~ Fatima ~
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