The young flower that I pray is not seasonal,
Thoughts spread across the blue sky isn't rational,
Every breath counts a milestone – a start and an ending,
Time is neither friend nor foe to either it is not fending,
The wise cherish it dearly, excel at nurturing and using it,
The ignorant sneer and scoff, in effect promptly losing it,
In all it’s three we struggle to comprehend,
Hence allow me your attention I will attend;
On the past we grapple, argue and fumble to no end,
Struggle to dominate with opinion without amend,
In the present resides what we are yet to appreciate,
Fading to the past that which we cannot reinstate,
To the future we boast of what is yet to come of fate,
Having no knowledge regarding what shall dominate,
Lives intersect, crisscrossing and intertwining not by any
choices,
Yet man revels in imagined influence, and his puny mind rejoices,
To Almighty we turn, praying that our purposes align,
That all is well with the world, that all will be fine.
