The shortness of life, the length of hours.
Everything gone before is a flashing moment.
Everything today is idle and still.
But as today turns to yesterday. Its again a flash, and a spinster of second.
Everything tomorrow is the unpredictable future.
We wait and plan. We make our hours seem like years. We watch needles of a clock now and again. Watching time hanging in the air.
Our minutes turn to years as the ticking of the clock penetrates our ears.
One day, which maybe our last.
We will see life as our past.
A series of blurred old images will run through our mind.
It will consist of all our memory,
and time is what then we will envy.
As it passes without a trace, in finess and grace

We tried and tried to prison it in numbers.
We tried to stop it with curtians and blinds.
But time had wisdom and power undefined.
It was long and listless. £t turned short as bliss.
but as it took us to its end. All we endured was now a memory.

I lay on my bed. The clock still exists. The digits change, the needles move. But now I know the wisdom of time. My yesterdays are a flash of memory. My future remains in non-existence.
My now maybe where I breathe my last. Without count and wait.

I shall live my last.

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