With light and life alongside comes the morning,
But hurries past with all the spells in turn;
Goes light, goes life - as Time moves past the evening -
All back to darkness and same ne'er return.
In dread, I try to hold back fleeting Time,
But slips it from grips of my mortal hands
And moves on cutting through each block by whim
And gives none a chance as it runs errands :
It wounds, it heals, it makes a king of you,
And then, a pauper of a king, no care;
And as it gets the day change its last hue,
All at the fall of the night, fall dead all bare...
Spinning with vanes is Time's galloping wheel;
It takes each gain, and takes each pain, with each kill.
- N. P. SAMAL
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