Time is Lord’s Call

Death and Dearth, reign the Earth
Everything here, to be measured bare, for all
Time is Lord’s call, it exhausts all,
whatever physical.

No divide, on the other side,
all are infinite, no competition no fight.
In the kingdom of cosmic shape,
no measuring tape, for that height.

It’s no fun, the word time known to none,
no hurry no worry.
No mention, neither in any diary,
nor in any dictionary.

There is no end, mere a bend,
unlike earth.
No side and no divide,
there no death only new birth.

No debate no hate, no bank no rank,
only gratitude and thank.

Negative is a word totally absurd there.
For such knowledge, mere attempt is sacrilege,
and unfair.
Any negative and gloss, no place across,
belong to this side, only here it bide.

Whatever bide on the other side,
are all light, one and same sight.
All love, all energy, nothing sensory.

There are no flowers kent, just a feel of scent.
No organ to sense and know, only shadow.
Between shadows no lawsuit,
no moot, shoot and no pursuit.