Time has no qualms;
She holds no hostages, nor concerns herself with the enemy.
She does not consort or negotiate,
nor does she leap boundaries to chase mourning’s.
She is not indecisive, neither steady.
She won’t spend moments pacing relentlessly,
nor answer patience knocking.
Long languished evenings are not where she moods herself.
Where mortals breath pollute the air;
mercy is not where she comes to rest,
nor in the steady worships of towering Gods.
Time does not come when you call.
She offers no solace,
nor renders respite.
She knows not how to follow suit,
nor pardons the waste encircling her.
She has no memories of regret of inherited wars that pillage and plunder.
Where refuge is offered, she is defiant!
She is not familiar with the devoted.
Bargaining with blind faith does not phase her,
while the dismantled race befall her,
nor do Tempest’s thrust.
Time does not pave the path shorter.
She won’t know how to tie the inevitability of a loose shoelace,
on hollow grounds where most broken hearts linger.
She is blind to the wells of tears that form around her, and to
the stench of lose and longing caused by her sisters.
Time will not encourage a soft breeze,
like that of a glance from a secret admirer,
nor keepsake a moment of anger, hatred or resentment.
She knows nothing of the past, the present or lifetimes ahead.