O Time Poem by Kiranjit Singh Bajaj

Time, thou befriend not,
Perched on thy wings,
Thou moveth on,
Sparing no moment for thought,
Pacing through our short-lived joys,
Limping in our pain,
Masking the future,
Inching us closer to death.

Don't hold a grouse beyond our span,
Nor tease the living-dead,
For what have thou to earn,
From the vanquished soul,
When thou art but a tool of the divine.

Forgive the past,
Grace some respite, a moment or two,
To undo whatever can be done,
In our moments of grief,
And in turn, set thyself free.