Sarcophagi Poem by Patti Masterman

Slow as a dream, a lazy river,
Time wanders through our living,
Slowing a few frames or speeding up;
Whose mannerisms not well understood
Holding our bodies, this huge world
In its fourth-dimensional well.

Metronome hand of causality,
Counting the breaths we're allowed to breathe;
And while what is known is to be preferred,
Time is the one has the last word.

We may try to engrave some lines on time,
But time becomes implacable sarcophagi.