Tuesday, August 23, 2016


When we’re young, the years go slowly,
So it seems, but when we age,
They seem to go by faster,
Till they’re flying by at speed.
We find we cannot slow them,
Though we mutter, wail and rage.
We fear they will not slacken—
Till we’re dead and gone indeed.

But then, as death approaches,
The days appear to slow,
As we wish that they would hasten,
As we’re eager then to go.

So it seems that time’s a torture
That’s devised, like all the rest,
To be, with us, impatient—
Yet all our patience test.
2016 August 23rd, Tue.
Brooklyn, New York

Note: Below are links to two distant relatives of Relativity-III:
1) Relativity-II (Jo`e Bangla)
2) Relativity

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