If Time Wins.

For long, I’ve observed elderly people gradually becoming keener to share the stories of their lives, happier in seeing lights of appreciation, respect and pride in the eyes of those who are still to run a lot before they reach the same last lap of life.

For long now, I’ve wondered if my being, my origin will cease to exist — not with me — but with those who gave birth to me, because the only other person — my brother — who knew and understood the surroundings I was brought up in is no longer with us. The idea makes me feel lonely.

You might not understand the feelings behind any of these two etherees — one from the perspective of a person needing to leave a mark, and the other from a person such as myself: a person desiring to show that there is a mark — but do take out time to read. I’d like that.



Holes deep.

And plant seeds

Of memories

In them now, I must.

Time-Chariot flies dust here

Where I toil to dust off time.

My baubles and shine fade, oh see!

Hurry I must, and bugle my mainspring well.

For ere I journey beyond, I must live.




But my life is like a rootless willow.

None to know its root or see its water.

Bugle I must my sunspring loud over,

For none will soon know I came

After I journeyed a road.

Alone I travel

Beside Chariots

Of Time, slow.

‘Tis me.


Courtesy: traveladventures.org

17 thoughts on “If Time Wins.”

  1. I have come back to this post several times, Priya. Your etherees are beautiful – always so beautiful. I am so sorry at the loss of your brother. I fear my Dad’s side of the family vanishing within the next several years. His sister is the only one still living – she is the key, but we do not see her enough. My boys will not know much about my Dad’s family. Makes me sad. Yet your words make it sound beautiful. Is that possible? Clearly, it is possible.

    1. It must be beautiful, Lenore, because it is a type of natural progression. And that usually is beautiful, however sad.

      I hope your boys are able to get to know your Dad’s side of the family. It must not be easy for you to show them now, but perhaps not impossible either. I hope you’re able to.

      I keep wondering how I’ll tell my child about my brother. Through pictures? Tales and stories and anecdotes? They’ll be so pathetically devoid of him. But I must introduce the two somehow, too. 🙂

  2. Becoming a parent makes us really appreciate our roots, our lineage, our origins. We know that it is on our shoulders to share family stories with the young ones, to give them a bookmark on this planet. I am sure you will find the right way to make your brother come alive in the mind of your child – he is, after all, a part of your being, your fabric, and your children will sense that and will understand there is no right or wrong way to talk about him.

    1. I like that you used the word ‘fabric’. I’ve been thinking about it since. He certainly is a part of the weave — the wefts and warps I carry. And you are right, the child will know without telling. 🙂

      Thank you.

  3. Priya, these etherees are beautiful — you at your finest. This line was simply grand, “For ere I journey beyond, I must live.”

    And remember, you are even at this very moment creating a legacy for yourself. For all you say and do and think and breathe and care will warm and form the heart of your child.

  4. I’m always struck by the shape of your etherees. It’s as though you’re sculpting something that’s both visually beautiful and deeply meaningful — all with a few words. Your writing will ensure that your origin, and your life, will always exist. You’re a genius, as I’ve long told you. I hope you never believe me.

  5. I’m tired it’s been a long day and still your etherees move me – nice to to see the second one done backwards. I can understand your pain and loneliness after your beloved brother passed away way so early in his life, but I agree with Charles that your life and your origins will never disappear because of your skill with words…

    I can name so many poets who aren’t with us anymore yet they live on through their beautiful poems. Do you remember Wislawa szymborska?

    1. I do remember Wislawa Szymborska (though not the spelling of her name. :P)

      Living on after my death is not really what I am looking for right now. I am looking for understanding of the Me while I am alive. Do you see?

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