Start again.

Back to how it was then

When you sifted shifting sand,

The fleeting grains escaping your hand.

You are back again,

Grasping for half past ten

When duty called and people waved,

When dunes of uncertainty you squarely braved.


Starting again, realizing

Time is no redeemable token.

How many Aprils, Mays, Junes, and Julies

Before oceans glistened in your eyes?

Take a pen, make a note of it, or not.

Just know, fleeting thoughts are good as forgot.

Then you lose your spot, right at half past ten,

And must start again.


Again! Again! Again! Again!

Back to where intentions were taken -

Taken to be reduced to a powdery whisper,

And how that pinched like a spiteful blister.

Now, time has vanished from this place,

Save only for deep lines on an austere face,

But with eyes set firmly on half past ten.

Start again.

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