A Dance with Time

 

The sands of circumstance wash over, 

 The tides of time hath no mercy ravage,

Waters churn, and come ever so closer,

They heal not wounds, they only bandage.

The tide scours the waters ever so rapacious,

Appear free but not, enslaved by the moon.

The act of flowing downstream, courageous,

Not every man is endowed with your boon.

Time dawns further, the waters take over,

The dark sets in, the horizon lower and lower,

I lay agape, the tide calmer and slower,

I wash away with a smile having tried it all.

I did not die sober.