One may wish to turn back the hands of time
And return to a place unscathed by change,
Only to find this petty whim a crime
For change is certain, and entirely strange.
It comes with no notice, hint, or advice;
Wreaking destruction throughout its wake.
Some can foreshadow change and it's device,
Like I, counting down until the great break.
Yet through all the warnings, I embrace it;
I await the day where my life will shift
And irrevocably bend and emit
A brilliant light on which I will drift
Into some uncharted territory
Where I anticipate to find destiny.