Time is gray.
Composed of black oblivion and white memory.
Constantly spinning, harmonizing, colliding and entwining.
Eventually, it shatters.
Time is blood red, sunset yellow, and lake blue.
Constructed from sunlight and moisture to create nature’s green,
Dyed into winter’s silver, summer’s vermilion, autumn’s orange.
Expanding further outward to become a universe of pitch black,
Only stars are born and extinguished.
Time is transparent.
Exerted endless power to shape the world,
Willing to trade fleeting temptation for fragile perception,
Balancing values and transitioning between motion and stillness.
But,
It wraps itself in a cocoon,
Not allowing anyone to delve, see or perceive.