Timely Sonnet Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Steamroller Time seems strange, so swift to wreak
dire punishment on empires far and wide.
terminating erstwhile terrestrial pride
grass razes towers, airing dungeon's reek.

Too often lands fall into hands of clique,
of rogues defrauding poor of store, backslide,
maturing Nature bides its time to chide
trumped vanity Pride falls from zenith peak.

Mordant Time consumes both players, stake,
avenging Fate, reclaiming all it lent,
unrelentlessly sees lives forsake
phut pomp in past deemed paramount, soon spent.

Nought can reverse Time's flow - an empty jest -
so 'if' remains in limbo, foolsgold blessed.