Time Poem by Allen Steble The Philosophical Poet

Time is the ultimate illusion
change is the hand that ticks so auspiciously
only in anticipation of eternities journey

It is not a rushing stream nor endless dream
for this master takes its own steady pace
to the locales of no home, land or place

Many brand on their hand as a brittle reminder
pushing its toll to stride a little faster
and serve graciously again their conjured master

Even in the rippled mire of changing tides
time takes no leaps, bounds or strides
only a point of reference that wisely guides