Time, the gentle killer,
ebbs and flows with inhuman determination.
We fight day after day trying to slow its passage,
yet day after day the grains fall through our hands.
Run and run through Time's never-ending halls,
the ticks of seconds and the chimes of hours sound all around you.
Run and run yet never take a single step,
Time held you fast with the grip of death.
Take what you have left and forge ahead with your head held high,
Time is patient, ever vigilant, and will wait for you when the last grain drops.
With a gentle grip and eternal eyes guiding your last step,
you will finally make your way down that infinite hallway to your next great adventure.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.