Time itself, a fickle thing,
A fleeting gift, that soon takes wing.
For once it’s gone, it’s gone for good,
A fact that’s often misunderstood.
The moments pass, with each tick and tock,
And with them, the memories that we’ve wrought.
But what of those, who find themselves lost,
In a time that’s passed, and long been crossed?
A place where time, no longer reigns,
A world of silence, where nothing remains.
A fate worse than death, a fate unknown,
Where life’s fleeting moments, are all but flown.
For time, it seems, is a devouring beast,
That feasts on life, without a care, in the least.
So let us cherish, each moment that we’re given,
For time, like a thief, can leave us quite stricken.
And though it may seem, like time’s on our side,
The truth is, it’s fleeting, like the ebbing tide.