Time

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Time flows ever onward,
Sometimes with the rush of a swollen river,
At others like the slow but steady drip of a leaky faucet.
Seconds melt to minutes, creating life year after year.
Time thinks, its ideas overwhelming the imagination.
Time is constant, never ceasing except for those brief moments it seems to stop.
Time stands, stoic, still, the only thing to survive its test.
Time beats on, its notes rising and falling in an eternal symphony.
Time heals wounds that it itself opened.
Time kills, mercilessly taking that which it has given.
Time is all seeing, all knowing.
Time is the creator.
Time is the destroyer.
Time raises mountains only to destroy them, eventually turning to sand.
Time has no beginning, it has no end.
Time is eternity.
But the only time that matters is now.





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