On the Sands of Cosmos


Time has its stamp
Change is its logo

Selecting the best and
Consigning rest to rubble, its process.

It is a wizard like wind.
Passing through the animate
It gives a touch of life
By dribbling, it wakes inanimate to life.

It hibernates creation in its icy vaults to lull
Or, suddenly explodes supernovas
Beyond the limits of senses.

In an endless sequence
It coils and recoils
scripting an epoch each time.


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