Scarce are the days,
When time appears still,
Charging forth, ever faster,
Warping decades at will,
Fascination is killed.

Rest is easy, weary body,
Mind follows like a slave,
Chains in toe, spirit broken,
As though unable to behave,
Dependent 'till the grave.

Solace comes though it's fleeting,
Time shows memories fond,
Renews viscous emotions,
Of unbreakable bonds,
But beware of the con.

Time will wait for no mortal,
Will not reason nor rhyme,
Ramble onwards with purpose,
And be sure to live fine,
Lest you miss the sublime.

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