More poetry on time.
That time is a cruel mistress
Marching ever on
She never stops for anyone
How we match to her own beat
Our clocks they are our shackles
Sturdy chains that hold
We’ve tied them all about the world
Can we ever break those bonds?
Even when we think us free
Of the power
Time doth hold
Our bodies prove that in the end
She shall own us, blood and bones
Copyright © 2017 · All Rights Reserved · Fantasy Transcendent