senses
sometimes,
you might lose your senses,
to the mist of fine desert dew.
crystalised under the brewing storm,
each pearl shows you fragments of life.
of the past, and the future.
time does not permit, for her presence to linger.
each facet is a mirror of secret,
which only you can unlock.
sometimes,
you might hold on to her secrets,
battling against the wild sandstorm.
knowing all this while,
that a battle undertaken is twice the battle lost.
still, it is the only hope worth holding on to.
time does not allow, for you to cling on.
each second is a torment of pain,
which only grows thicker.
sometimes,
you might discover your lost cause,
in the midst of your senses.
there is so much you would love to hold on to,
yet nothing belongs to you.
not of the past, nor the future.
time is nothing but a moment.
of nowhere close nor far,
but which you learn to be, for now.
