Timely Sonnet

We trust so much to the capricious Time,

We call her wild whims the works of Fate.

We search through past to find a hint of rhyme,

We ascribe too much to the given date.

So oft time is as a tundra so bleak,

Merging the mindless thoughts and swarms of faces;

I’ve always searched too hard for what I seek,

By chance, I stumbled to a great oasis.

Our paths through time are destined cold and winding;

Time offers us no light to find our way.

Yet somehow I did find the perfect timing

The moment I first spoke to you that day.

Through all the chaos that may plague our paths,

I rejoice that our paths have crossed at last.

 

 

Photo: mlejaster

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