Everlasting
Time is immortal
It gives no heed to the sad, the lonely.
It will pass by, happy smiles, uncaring
It glides through death’s dark tunnel
It seeks not the living, nor the light
Time has no master, it belongs to itself
It shapes new worlds, moulds new beings
It cares not for dimensions, plays out what it will
It has no beginning and no end
We could search forever
never to find its true meaning…
Anita Dawes and Jaye Marie 
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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I really enjoyed this poem, Anita.
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Thank you, Robbie…
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Time – one this among very few that humans can’t control. Only how we fill it. Great poem, Anita. ❤
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Thank you, Diana…
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