Time: A myth?

The river that originated agitated

now stands silent in the plain

the lines on my face

have changed, but the eyes remain


the wheel has turned again

for another round lame

The tree I water is withered

but I love it the same


I did my tasks each day

some changed over the years

waking up with the same fate

of smiles, songs and tears


as if time has not travelled and

I am alive in the distinct moments

it does not matter to me…

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