And the philosopher asked what is time?
It’s what we spend our lives trying to fight
Yet it’s what we will never escape.
It’s a drive to do better, bigger, more
To create and procreate
So that your mark might be left on time
After death it’s the only way we can continue to live
Within memory.

But time diminishes all
Because all is ephemeral
Memories
Mountains
Memories of mountains.
Time is creations vice.

On the cosmic calendar
Humanity has only lived in the last second
Of the last day of the year scale.
Is it likely we’ll live any longer?

Is this what we ignore?
To get ourselves out of bed every morning
Because we realize that actions make no difference in the scheme of things
That our exsitance doesn’t matter to time.
But then why do we live in regret?
Why do we live limited?

Is this how the stars feel?
Like their existence is so small in such a infinitely expanding universe.
Is time real for them?
Or is it just an illusion of our own demise?

Time is the great equalizer
Whether we are what’s good or bad in the world
Time will find a counter for us.
But what happens at the end?
Is there an end to time?
Or does it expand with the universe?

What if out of the infinite number of universes
One singular universe achieves equilibrium in it’s end
Yes the end of its infinity.
Does this mean creation triumphs over time?
Does this signify the end of time? Do we return back to nothing?
To a black hole?
Is  time then reborn from this lack of existence?
Does this process infinitely repeat?

Time is a ****
She screws everyone
She is confusing and beautiful
Time for us is us, our lives
Then the philosopher said” I only wanted the time you could have just said 2:40”

*Moral of this story is proper grammar saves time