Time

A small piece about the master of us all

A stormy sea perturbs my thoughts,
A gale slowly building to it's full.
Will rip and tear until there is naught,
The storm ceasing; a peaceful lull.

A life smothered, a flame gone out.
A cycle unto the end of days.
Surely there must be another route,
To fix these mortal ways.

So fragile we've become in solitude,
Just waiting for a helping hand.
Death brings nothing, weakening our fortitude.
The bells tolling across the land.

We are but shadows and dust in the end,
We wash our souls of this grime.
We're fighting a battle we cannot win,
Against the master of us all: Time.