An empty faceless conjurance
Time is a device void of meaning
In a natural world of truth
A souless affliction to man
Severing too short lifespans
Into so many bits of waste
And confusing higher issues
The hands of the clock are liars
When minutes are days and hours are months
No music of your honeyed voice
Have I been caressed with in days
Without the sunshine you bring
The seasons have passed by fruitless
What a cruel devise time is
Welcome to the Den Budd! Time is a favorite subject of mine, never a right or wrong, it just is. Perception of time...well that's a whole other kettle of fish. Patrick
Reviewed by Glen Manese (Reader)
Reviewed on December 31, 2011
Well put in the meaning to this... If I may suggest... "The(s)" in the verse hinder a bit in this work.. Making your lines flow even more without them...to the reader... Thanks for sharing your work... Happy New Year...
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