TIME IS A SLAVE

SEEKING BEAUTY
Time is a sieve to let go turning to dust,
Like strangers interrupted as if from above,
Searching for seeds and where to grow it,
Some life from slime emerging, them seeking beauty,
The Moon climbs motionless in magnanimity.
Dawning days of love untimely peep,
Dumb depression is vast and dark,
On deep winter nights demons spark,
Desires unspoken on doorways creep,
Daunting dreams on threshold sleep.
Beckoning simple pleasures replete,
Brimming bards have songs complete,
Breeze soaring on mountains crease,
Bright blue skies or ocean scenes,
Beckoning me to verities unseen.
Burning in rage on a page is not a sin,
Erupting in action as the monster is no win.