Days Are Going Nowhere

Days are going nowhere, Immortal at last; Stillness is here and there, Memories of past. Years like unknown streets, All going to by and by; Remembered bittersweets, Only a faraway cry. The simmering fragile wind, Crumpling nothingness; Blandly from future rescind, The fruits and flowerless. Receptive to breath and sleep, All is in steep descend; The shining things into the deep, Till its very own end. Days that mask in dark faces, Flowers with mouth of new; Shadows passing moods abases, And hiding realities construe. Days are going nowhere, Immortal at last; Is there anybody aware, The hour has glassed.