Time Poem by Mark Sauer

You must not hurry love or genocide.
These great things ripen in their own season
And passion forced is lightning petrified;
Clio has her pace, immune to reason
Or frenzy alike. Questions are answered
Unasked on the day, wounds heal untreated
As if by a miracle, the absurd
Becomes obvious and true, the defeated
Rise from the grave at the instant ordained.
Certainty and time powder the mountain
And fill the valley. Nothing is lost or gained,
The ending was writ before it began.
Surrender or struggle, gallop or plod;
All's a frozen gem in the hand of God.