Beneath the kaleidoscope of city lights,
Drunk on the potion of our fleeting nights,
As we dance with shadows, shifting in the gloam,
Youth whispers secrets, in this world we roam.

And with each pulsing beat of our hearts,
We paint the canvas of life with our arts.
Our laughter's echo, a symphony of time,
In the theater of existence, our prime.

Time, oh time, your river runs so deep,
In every memory we yearn to keep,
Yet as the current carries us away,
The colors of our youth begin to fray.

Through silent forests, where wisdom hides,
Where Emerson's thought and Frost's beauty abides,
We journey seeking truth in nature's lore,
Learning to embrace what life has in store.

The ticking hands of time, the aging moon,
All singing the inevitable tune,
Yet in each wrinkle, in every silver line,
Lie tales of a life, beautifully entwined.

Time, oh time, in your rhythm we dance,
Caught in the ebb and flow of our trance,
And as we waltz to your eternal song,
We understand, to the universe, we belong.

The mirror reflects our changing face,
Youth's fleeting image, a vanishing trace,
Yet, within our hearts, in the depths unseen,
Burns the eternal flame, forever seventeen.

As we walk the path where the two roads diverge,
We find ourselves standing on the age's verge,
With the wisdom of the years in our sight,
We embrace the coming of the adult's night.

Time, oh time, in your hands we unfold,
Weaving the tapestry of stories told,
Though the days of youth in the past might lie,
In the realm of memory, they never die.

So, with every sunset, and every breaking dawn,
We celebrate the life that has been and will be born,
And though the pages of time continue to turn,
It's the fire of youth, within us, that continues to burn.

When the wars of men
Shall finally end
Will the lands still be green
Bejeweled with floral adornment
And the mighty seas spirited
In their azure echo of the skies

Or will it reek like the woeful demise
Of a fateful unfading resolve
By the mortal greed of folks
Sedated in devilish hoax

Maybe happiness is
Rediscovering parts of yourself
That were buried long under
The murky abyss of conformity

Maybe happiness is
Finding the long lost faith
Deep inside your own self
The naked flesh of your mind

Maybe happiness is
After all a state of your mind
That you have to accept
As it swivels in rhythm
A playful youth of ecstasy

The withered cage
Of a flowering bush
In a bent posture
Fatigued of mortality

A mere portrayal
That remains
Of a spirited
Crimson past

A song that is now unsung
As a state of remembrance

And how delightful is it
To see a new leafy sprout
Young and sprightly
One that will flourish
To tell a new tale
For such has always been
The resolve of life

As the ages of my life pass by
Like bits of burnt sages
I look back at what elapsed
Like withered pages of rusty verses
Frittered yet sapient in phases

And I fondly wonder
Of the moments of quandary
Whether I flourish or mold blunder
Heedless to the end that I shall attend

Smokes of a half burnt incense
Smell of freshly chopped roses
I take sips of her beauty in small doses
Savoring the very best for when we are closest

I woo her away in every chances
In some hopes of tender kisses
The sweet taste of her bright lips
Makes a man beg for her to keep

How long do I have to wait
In thrills of our desired getaway
Even when in our old days
My merry muse, she stays

Warm as the color blue
The hue of her enchantment
Got through my armor built
Of thick skin curved in suit

Slight she is divine
Slight of mischief
Heedless of either
She will cure you of grief

Do look her in the eyes
For they have stories within.
A sunken sea brimming full
Some of the future, some of history.