The fabric of time

   THE FABRIC OF TIME
  Love is stirred within
Like a whirlwind
Grace is moist on his lips
Like the dew on mount hermon
A fragrance of everlasting hue
The wind is the precursor
Words are your haft
Seeming mesh of thoughts
They leap with joy as they dance
To the tune of love
Time is the seed of a husbandman
Sown in the cusp of eternity
It measures intent
And sculptures the intangible
A tick in time is worth a decision
The labyrinth of time urges on
When the door of time is shut
The fabric is torn
The  tunnel breaths
And the gates of death swing open
Arguments become fragile