Tempus Fugit

The end of day dwindling away, as a chapter closing on a living novel.

Night approaching, consuming the fading horizon.

A blissful time of thought provoking silence, as day slips quietly back.

Springing forth onto opposite skies,
to be viewed by the eyes of another.

Reciprocated illusion,

There is no beginning of a day,
Only a part one and part two.

No start and no finish,
Perpetual motion of time.

Time does not start and does not stop,
There are no pauses in between.

As time waits for no man.

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