From rise to set,
Never does it rest,
For past, present and future,
Within it do nest.
When happiness they fetch,
They are momentous like a dream,
But at sadness they stretch,
And never ending they seem.
Like crystal sand in tightened fist,
More is lost when tighter the hold,
Dark and vague like twilight mist,
For it only knows what future may hold.
Money can buy it,
Bonds can’t tie it,
If lost for once it’s lost forever,
Regret of which ceases never.
Did it have a beginning?
Does it have an end?
Is still beyond our reckoning,
It lives by its own trend.
Seconds pile up into minutes,
As does months into years,
But these are just measures of mortal span,
And end with death as we fear.
Infinitely … continuously striving ahead,
Presenting few memories sublime,
To where it will take us, from where it has lead,
We mortals call it Time.
