The stopwatch was set,
The finish line drawn,
The time count started,
The day we were born.
Since then the clock is ticking,
The time digits rolling,
The finish line approaching,
Unaware, we are fast running.
The timing is fixed but unknown,
The finish line drawn but unseen,
An invisible end keeps beckoning
To which we keep responding.
The Master knows the Time
And the Space to be traversed,
On His blowing the whistle,
Our bodies will be lowered.
Dhaka
Copyright Reserved
29 October 2017
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