Would time bend willingly to command?

The plains be plain for sailors to merry.

The sea as blue- do the winds reprimand?

In time do these ships aloft as wind carry.

The sailors plea do Poseidon glee.

If poets do sing, then heaven befell.

Trancing the waves of the sea.

Galleons- boy do they stand through hell.

Of war they hear but dun mistress they speak.

The shores lay unkindly far.

In end yet but bleak.

A voyage that be graved in stars.

Whatever does lie beyond the horizons?

May they strand further than the sirens.

Something mystic in the view of mine.

She sits at the receding shorelines- at bay.

For she be truly a woman of divine.

She separates her gaze- to my dismay.

Would the hours be so unkind? Would the seconds be so unfair?

For every moment as vivd as her strands.

A seconds loss; my heart tears.

For when cruel time comes; she must return to far away lands.

The oceans envy her smile’s gleam.

Time seems endless in her gaze.

Yet time does not hear any of my endless pleas.

With a blink- she disappears without a trace.

Time was once again, of no use,

For you were sadly but a fleeting moment of muse.

As fleeting as it seems, worlds shifts- corrodes as mere amenities. For these be such realities. As it drips and melts. As lines weave and meld. To colours or more. A placidity that soars. A canvas that remains as such lores. As violent as she be adored. Abstracts that corrodes; reality. Would there be an allegory? A soul trapped to sell my story? An art thats costly. As worlds collide and corrode; a blank slate. For the believers to see. For the sceptics to see. A grim, overlooked work. Would there be any less? A sight where ghouls weep- a reality that is distorted so deep. Does it hold any glee? Despair lies where these melded realities cries.