Deceiving Yet Unstoppable

Its hands stopped moving
That very moment I knew it's got to get going
Running, floating, rowing, I don't know, perhaps it does nothing?
I could never fathom, imagination diminishing.

It stopped and I stooped
Viscid mire swallowed my boot
I sat down and pulled over my hood
I could never fathom, how could I, in despairing mood?

It stopped moving and I walked stooping
I thought it's gone and I lay incapacitated, begrudging
Then I felt the unseen, all along, moving
I could never fathom, how stupid, that it's actually not waiting

How many could understand the unseen?
Or to experience and to witness the "always have been"?
Even as we began to realize and grasp clumsily at its hem
I could now fathom; that it means being left in its wake

Time, it's been said, waits for no man. The author tried to understand the unseen time and how it moves. How everything is relative to it. Like the waves and billows, it gets messy and complicated when one tries to imagine and understand the beginning of time. Time moves forward but I would find comfort in that time leaves its mark; a message sounding "I was here". Time begets memory. The latter being a stationary form of a dynamic time and I'm not making any sense anymore.

I have with me a dead watch yet life goes on. Like that watch, my life is full of "dead watches" too but I couldn't spend too much time holding on to it. I'd just put them up for display on my desk and wall.

Time: Unstoppable yet deceiving. Deceiving because its swiftness created an illusion of a still dimension. Having said that, I hope that with time I'd make more sense when I speak or write.