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The Grasping

The Grasping
Time, that eternal beast in its moving
Its merciless smiles and selfish ranting
Its impatient surges and egotistical fury
Its wild marauding and triumphant cries
It stops when it runs out of itself
When eternity dives into faceless oceans
Life, that kind lady with her teary eyes
Her wrinkled burrows in her once vibrant skin
Her throbbing heart crying through her veins
Pleading for time to slow down for her
Her next step landing on unfamiliar grounds
While time took the familiar
Away to yesterdays walk
Time, that thief that stole her reflective moments
Before her grasping, time moved on ahead
As wild stallions racing across the firmament
She’s always running fast but not fast enough
A frantic sprinter predetermining her own fate
Conceding to time in its customary crowning
When she finds an awareness of life
Through her perpetual, prudent grasping
Her frail arms lose their strength to contain it
Through her artistry, she fell behind
As the present regressed into the past
Her thoughts became relics of days gone by
Until future poets and philosophers
Ran out of ideas
Then her name became the cornerstone
Of the shrine erected in memory of her
Her life-long grasping finally caught up
To time after her final breath ran away
Ran away to unknown paradises
As time got the best of her

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Altre opere di Robert L. Martin ...