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18. Tyrant of Time
Syed Nadir Ali Shirazi, M2F1
Beyond the ticking hands, the tyranny of Time,
Its march was eternal, yet its mercy sparse.
From the first breath drawn to the final chime,
It claimed each life, yet left its scars—
An architect of endings, bleak or sublime.
Time arose unbidden, the sovereign unseen,
With no beginning to mark, no end to seek.
It built the world, unhurried yet keen,
And rendered all equal: the mighty, the meek,
Shaping ages with a hand so serene.
Time gave us the gift of a fleeting now,
Yet Memory returned to the graves of then.
Each moment was lived, though none knew how,
Until it was swallowed and rewritten again—
The living forgot; the past took its vow.
Time’s tyranny led to the dread of the end,
A ceaseless river that wore stone to sand.
Its waters, unyielding, refused to bend,
Yet Memory, cunning, would take a stand,
For it could reshape what Time could not mend.
But Time was not cruel; it simply was.
It gave no solace, yet it offered the new.
And Memory was not kind; it worked with flaws,
Turning fact to fiction, the honest to the untrue—
Both masters of man, yet neither the cause.
Oh, let us rise, beyond their thrall,
To cherish the moment, unclaimed, untamed.
For Time and Memory, though they bind us all,
Shall neither be bowed to, nor ever blamed—
For we are the weavers, the makers of it all.
POETICA
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