'Father Time'

Sometimes it’s hard to know,
If ‘Time’ is friend or hateful foe.
Racing along when he should walk slow,
Standing still when he needs to flow.

He’s ‘Father’, he’s money,
And sometimes just funny!
Laughing, crying. angry, sad,
And at times, just plain bad.

He has his own energy, walks his own pace,
While men run his awkward race.
Some with passion, some with grace,
Some with red and puffy face!

He has a mind all his own,
To terrorize, humble, soothe or clone.
No beginnings, never ends,
Worst of enemies, best of friends.

He pays no heed to human emotions,
Traveling along in his own motion.
Raising mountains, filling oceans,
Watching the rise and fall of nations.

Does he mend broken hearts, and heal broken bones?
Or maybe turn men to stone?
He turns tiny seeds into giant trees,
And then cuts them down with scary ease.

He can be as gentle as a baby’s breath,
Or cold and hard, still as death.
How might we stop him, make him care?
To solve his riddle, who would dare?


- Harsha