Time
She is the cradle, out of which we all climb to enter life
She is the river we submerge ourselves in to wash away all of our sorrows
She is there, always, embracing us
But
over a life
the observant mind notices that
when we climbed out of the cradle
we made a pact
A promise that one day we will return
only to find the cradle is a grave
And all our ventures, all our creations, all our glory, we leave behind
Forever
Time is the murderer of all hope
But
Times greatest enemy
Has always been
Life
The Hopeful One
