Most of us live afraid of time passing us, cheating us, favouring us, or abandoning us. Sakamoto simply gave up his time in the very hands of time.
Sakamoto at the Park
Time Capsule
Photo by Alex Smith from Pexels Preserve me, restore me, remember me.I was a warrior of old, forgottenThrough the passing of an age,Not even an epitaph on my grave.Light dapples its way to my home,An earthly mound sheathed by bladesOf green, by the passing breeze waveTo folks, I am obscured;Like pebbles on a river bedUnseen, unheard of, yet... Continue Reading →
Countdown
Comes closer by the passing of days,Slinking around the corners of our sight,Often recedes into mist and hazeNever recedes within fear's permit. Another idiot compromised, another life spent,Ignorant of the ticking clock, spread wideAmidst Distraction's toys, ignorant of the subject matterHe drawls toward the inconclusive,He steers into a chaotic norm,His speech deceives his own conscience,He... Continue Reading →
Perception Of Time
Time. It has passed. There shall be no returning to the moment when I wrote the first word in this article. But can I draw a line through it? Yes, I can. I can also tear off this page and remove all the jagged bit of paper sticking out of the binding meticulously, ensuring that... Continue Reading →
Ink Idle 