With time I feel my deepest strife is found;
These days and years my mental prison be,
For when I take a cursory glance around,
The things I long for most, time shields from me.
It seems that all must hike this same long trail,
The progress slow, tis futile to see far
And when compared in years, experience pale,
I see that love doth fall if not on par.
Still hopeful I will one day feel at home,
My earthly being nay reflect my mind.
Till then in frequent solitude I roam,
And cling to fickle ones alike in kind.
I know that time is neither friend nor foe,
My ancient soul contained in ebb and flow.