Time

The time moves on
It never stops;
It brings forth a new moment
It takes away an old memory;
It prospers a new hope
But singes an old bond.

A harbinger of a new phase
Writer of an epilogue to the past;
Augurs gaiety for some
Heralds woe for others;
A fickle friend I may call it
But a stubborn soul it is.

Precious it is to a dying soldier
Nugatory for an immortal soul;
Treasured by the helping hands
Snubbed by the slothful minds;
A gem of a stone it may seem
But creates a mirage in scene.

Rider of our wild horses
Steward of our keep;
The time commands those young esurient hearts
Behold that covetousness, for you are destined to my will;
Master of our fortune you may think
But a stingy smell it emits.

The Wheel of the hour rolls on
Yet young perish and old linger;
How do you pick up threads of an old life?
How do you move on?
When you begin to understand
There is no going back.