Time is a thief with a painter's brush
Gently, covers up past pains and regrets in the golden dusk
Waits for no one and never come back.
Brings it all
Takes it all
Leaving shadows of life that we had known.
Time is a burglar
Quietly mounts minute by minute into a block
Doesn’t see why he may not mount another hour
After all, he will never be caught.
Time is a grand larcenist
like a lead vocalist under the rhythm of a guitar
fires a prominent melody
Leaving nothing behind but shy footnotes in your memoir.
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Grounds For Hope 
Time just may not exist .The clock the strikes the hour is measuring mans made age . Beyond him stands ages all gone . The sun rises and falls much as we . The mole builds monuments to mark his process just as man builds to be remembered. We are Immortal both of us .Time will not matter to the spirit roving free . So what is time; a marker from birth to death of body .The transporter on earth .
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Oh, time exists; I think our perception measures it.
Lately, I feel as though human lives measure time. So many lives have been senselessly lost (ea.: war in Ukraine)
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Nice exploration of relativity! With texture.
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Thank you,
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Reblogged this on Creative Writing Course: How to Write Creatively: Those who can, do; those who can't, teach. Those who can’t do either (or perhaps ANYTHING) , just write” (a lot)! and commented:
“Beaut” + powerful writng, Tatiana
All the best
“waking up sleepyhead” c
“I make art through writing and words are my tools, as I paint (very messily) on the canvas of life”
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https://craigsbooks.wordpress.com/2022/04/28/tis-god-gives-skill-but-not-without-mens-hand-he-could-not-make-antonio-stradivariuss-violins-without-antonio-3/
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Thank you very much
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