Driftwoods

Grateful ever I’m Crating reminiscences From ever-evanescing hours Like precious fossils From receding marine streams Nescient of times ahead What else to opt for? Clueless are humans of The impending divine deluge Whether a shower of nectar Or a surge of venom Staring at the ‘future’ Congealing as ‘present’ And the ‘present’, freezing as ‘past’ Floating in muted patience Only rudderless boats we are Wafting the waters of time Trying frantic to swerve away Is sure not in our sway Nor the strength to stay still In the never-ending rill Driftwoods in ocean flows Know not…when they reach the shores! !