Βι¶ΉΤΌΕΔ

Time

With the quick snap of the fingers
Another second flashes passed as if it were an hour
And for a thousand years we watch
And wait as each grain of sand
Slips effortlessly
Through the narrow slots
That linger
Halfway up the hourglass of life
Because as we sit, or move
Hoping to stop that pendulum of fate
We weep yet again
While listening
To the uncompromising
But rhythmic ticking
Of that hidden clock
That cannot be altered
Or changed
By any fraction, or belief
When realising
We cannot alter the futures' history.