Time is but subjective
It passes much like dreams
Recountable is the content
But not the beginning or the end are seen

There in the distance
Where time is of essence
Prodigies count time through notes
Bars are a pulse composed of worth
Life, it streams from young ones throats

In what is now a far off land
Where time is measured
Through blood and sand
Many an end was met by steel
Whose other edge did hope reveal

The place where myth and legend fly
Rarely stops to ponder time
For it is plentiful and runs like wine
Immortal they are, and divine
Unbeknownst to human kind

Here on the page
Where all flows from pens
I tried to gain control again
Through fights for fabrications
I nearly lost all sense

And still the time continues on
And tears won’t stop for this