I present to you... a riddle
What is new, yet old. Frozen, not cold.
What touches all, with no fingers. What affects the mind, but never tinkers.
What can you not see but know, what can you search for... and find?
What I bring to you today is a riddle that knows not the bounds of your heart, your soul or your.... mind if I sit here a while and whisper sweet nothings to you. Tell you everything will be alright as we crawl along this path filled with knives ready to stab not our hearts... but our minds?
I see you over there, ready to face the world as it tries to fight you, lives to smite you, yet breathes... to incite you.
I see you over there with that dream on your shoulder; thinking of standing up it to aim for higher, maybe dare for greater, and at times believe... in the creator.
Yet, as with anything else...we can’t move forward until we answer the crux of the rhyme
Who...am...I?
I can be your climb, I am here for your prime, I will flavour your *** like the best of granny’s thyme...
Who am I?...
...
Time

Peace…
Of the mind? Fleeting
Of the soul? Escaping
Of the body? Gripping
Gripping my mind as I ask the question, from the many selections, of my deep inception, of a past recollection, of…
Peace
Is it here now?
Was it there then?
Was it but a whisper in the storms of my mind, reflecting through the ages of mankind?
To when peace…was always in line.
I ask these questions
Not to find an answer, or mold your mind into thinking of the divine
For there is no time, there is no space, there is no chance that you can replace this feeling of…my mind
I ask for peace, not for a solution, but to remind you
Remind you that there is, despite what you see, despite what you hear
Despite what you bare every day while you take care
That there is, somehow…somewhere
That notion of peace?
No…
But fear