Time

It heals, it steals, as it shapes our fare...

There is a strongman against whom none can stand

Made by God specially for the mortal band

Created to ensure that the strongest of us is faded

The loveliest of faces is jaded

To sweep even the most famed into oblivion

And yet, our griefs it is helpless to lessen

Even as it boasts that it waits for none, along with its sister tide

Look at how it flows through human history like a river so wide,

With so many secrets lost in its every turn

It is often like a fleeting mist here or a passing cloud there

It heals, it steals, as it shapes our fare

The young and the old stand on its opposite banks

Separated for ever by this thing they call the generation gap

Struggling to build a bridge across this chasm

A few succeed, while most fail

Between the old and the young, differing world views cast an ominous shade

Alas, a silence grows as to each, the voices of the other fade

One speaks in tales, while the other can only understand the language of dreams

their worlds forever apart like very distant streams

One seeks calm while the other chases flight, each sure that their way alone is right

Indeed, this is a gap built not of space or time,

But by hearts that lack a common rhyme

This thing called time; this enigma called time

A mystery wrapped in that other thing that we call history and goes on like an ever-repeating chime

It calls out to us warnings of events past

And yet we chose to walk on, deaf to its forecast

At our peril, at our peril

We ignore its warnings, this herald of peril

As it cries the silent alarm, its call to take heed of the gathering harm.