Time is a number,
A value we have denoted to a moment perceived as the now,
Its presence doctrines society and its functionality,
A fickle means of conceptualizing the abyss.

Time is but a construct,
A bid to control what is everlasting,
A scattered ploy to compartmentalize actions and obligations,
A means of justification.

Time is arbitrary,
For the essence is eternal,
Our soul is formless,
As the creation is infinite,
Relinquish your mind to this celestial current,
And harmonize to its flow surging within.