The sacred, birthing from with in

Second drops in another second,

Altogether they sink in minute,

And minutes in hours,

Hours sucked by day,

And clock surrenders it's life to calender with each day,

Then all month become a prey for year,

And years like a tiny drops of rain,

Drown in river of time,

River that's running madly in passion,

To embrace the oceanic abyss of infinite continuum,

And then all loud noise being absorbed by,

Unfathomable silence of union,

With that moment of being merged in moment of timelessness,

Myth of clock dies,

And "First" unveils itself, that is forever there,

But being missed always by clock,

For the clock always runs with "second"

The "First" that is moment of eternity beyond "second",

That neither can be named "First" nor "Second",

The nameless whole forever rests where,

Life encircles with death,

With no more life, no more death,

It's the moment of birthing from with in of the sacred,

Beyond beginning and end,

When one becomes one with that is,

Beyond life and death........