Master Of Time Poem by Wiley Wildcard

Masters of time we are not;
Masters of worlds we may become;
Everything is what we sought,
But nothing is our sum!
We may leave or stay;
We have a million things to say;
After all it's in the past;
All the things which never last;
In the forward is the future;
That we seek like a poacher;
Never to reach never to know;
Gaining nothing for show;
Before us now is a gift;
We call it the present and hope it will lift.