Time was never in our hands,
it seeps through the endless cracks in our minds.

Fools are those who reach out to grasp the hands of father time,
for it exists in a parallel world,
where two can never converge in its path.

With only the beginning created by men,
it cease to have no ending,
but rather coils and twists in a ring,
and encircle those within its grip,
into an endless swirl of suffering.

To travel back into the past and distant future,
one is lost forever in a tortured gaze.
When the present is left in a state of disdain,
his absence can never be regained.

Be wary of the sight of a black silhouette,
it comes with no warning and no one has ever yet,
lived to be a thousand and tell the tale of his encounter,
of the creature that stops time altogether,
and the partings of our loved ones, by the dark Grim Reaper.

Then let the currents drift you far apart,
till time and space becomes insignificant,
and float along the waves without a struggle,
because that is how wise men keep from drowning in their own battle,
of a life full of mystery and regret.