a beautiful instrument

to measure with meticulous concern

the randomness of our days and nights

days shrivel into mauve clouds

nights bloom into sunflowers

conveniently ignoring the ticking clock

that we and only we hear

a bell heralding

the start and end of rhythmic dance.


if we resist the seconds

and walk a bit further

dream a bit longer

perchance we would arrive at

shores of reason;

reason that painfully permeates

the cramped mess of our minds.

you would realise

time is more meaningful when immeasurable

for it stops when you inhale the deep scent

of earth, or if you prefer, that of a jay walker

for it transcends the limits of your mind

as you squint at the azure

savour a chocolate cookie

gape at the vastness of the horizon.


it nudges land and sky apart, ever so flawlessly

and gently reminds you of your majestic being

overflowing with ebullient smiles, grimaces,

and sighs

large enough to swallow the sea.


the horizon merely meets our gaze

and moves

with us

draining time out of sundials, clocks and wristwatches

for it is



Lot's Wife Editors

The author Lot's Wife Editors

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