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Sometimes I wonder, What happened to time?
Is it moving a little fast? Has prose defeated rhyme?
Are the clocks now adjusted to a speedier planet?
Or is it just me who’s slow and doomed to pantomime?

Can thieves still be punctual when they scheme to rob a bank?
Can a soldier still be meticulous when he’s summoned to queue and rank?
Can a student still attend his exam at exactly half past seven?
Can the dead arrive on time when angels unshut the gates of heaven?

Does it make any difference if your wrist watch was Swiss?
You pay a fortune for it and you think its instant bliss.
Yet you still arrive late, so does the guy you’re meeting with,
You spot his Japanese watch and you curse your fancy myth.

You run and drool breathlessly; you think you’re mastering time.
You miss the essence of your being and you can’t see the deadly crime.
You’re always where you think is right, while you should be somewhere else,
You express your timely achievements in the tongue of ‘nickel and dime’.

Whenever you break a heart, you’ve nothing but time to blame.
Whenever you miss a chance, ‘wrong timing’ becomes your claim.
Yet when time appears on your side: you waste, abuse or kill.
Time exhumes your worst, no remorse, penitence or shame.

The years go by and time continues playing its wicked game.
You are clearly getting older, slower and pathetically lame.
The sad years have passed like clouds in a windless night,
And the happy moments went by like lightning in a blind man’s sight

Then all the clocks stop ticking, and the heart just fails to beat.
You can hear them calling your name, but you have your maker to meet.
an’ while time weighs most on those who have it least ,
you’ll discover that time is mere illusion, tricking both man and beast.

End

A. L. Gomaa© 2006

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