She sits by the clear blue creek,
watching its grandiose mystique,
waiting for the golden sun on horizon,
tossing little grey pebbles one by one.
Time flows forever, like a stream
Or does the stream flow in time?
Time stops for no one they said,
Yet it stops the whole world, instead.
For it shall only turn on its own slow wheels,
all the bugging while its enigma it conceals.
The water and sky shall glow gold and sublime,
She has to fling her stones now, fling until its time...
