Ev’rywhere its soldiers walk endless lines,
Marching forward never once looking back.
Its troops guard the breath of a newborn child,
Its hands circle around, then they attack…
It seems to speed with ev’ry passing day,
It seems to taunt the sorrows that I grieve;
I beg shamelessly as it comes my way
And spend the stolen light with raging need.
I spread my fingers out to grasp for more,
While precious droplets slip through gaps between -
Too much is lost; too much I can’t restore,
Too less is caught; the minutes now flow free…
Too late to sing the words I’ve never sung,
Too fast the circling hands of time have run.