Time.
The heavens set time,
We pirouette from day to night; the moon dances her attendance,
Together we waltz the months,
A slow bow changes the seasons
With our companion dancers, come full circle
To see a year complete, to have another set to the sun’ tune.
And without these celestial bodies running their course,
Where would time be?
What care Heaven for time where all is but a circle with out end?
Visions change with mortality.
We remember a beginning and therefore see an end.
So Time becomes personified;
A Father to measure the span
Mortals see all as such
A dusk, a dawn
A spring an autumn,
A birth, a death,
To morn, to celebrate.
So time for mortals is not a circle but as a spiral staircase
That we join for a season and with each tread trod
A tic or tock.
Paternal friend he is not,
We are his slaves to fit in with his remorseless pace.
But no tyrant is he, just devoid of compassion,
We climb at his pace some times too slow some times too fast
Not enough, too much.
But come the end, t’is us that run out of ...........................
With in this natural order we augment time with events to remember
We pepper time with our own achievements
Or scar it with indolence and tomorrow live with all.
So we visit time in our allotted place
To be a part of what will be history,
To make our mark
So time is marked by nature and by man
The naturally occurring order
And the events that he achieves
And we celebrate ...its passing and our events with in it
A new year...a birthday’
The first man to...the discovery of....
The end of... what one was doing when...
Deaths.
And we remember, reflect, and by our nature run the
Gauntlet of emotions that fall to mortal imperfection.
But on the whole we count less our losses and tend to celebrate
Than morn and even then some call it a wake if not
A party!
All that separates one year from another is a number,
Begun by a birth in history, has many parties latter,
Arrived at a number that by dint of our decimal numeric has made special
a millennia
By the three score year and ten most should see a century turn but few the millennia made special
We pirouette from day to night; the moon dances her attendance,
Together we waltz the months,
A slow bow changes the seasons
With our companion dancers, come full circle
To see a year complete, to have another set to the sun’ tune.
And without these celestial bodies running their course,
Where would time be?
What care Heaven for time where all is but a circle with out end?
Visions change with mortality.
We remember a beginning and therefore see an end.
So Time becomes personified;
A Father to measure the span
Mortals see all as such
A dusk, a dawn
A spring an autumn,
A birth, a death,
To morn, to celebrate.
So time for mortals is not a circle but as a spiral staircase
That we join for a season and with each tread trod
A tic or tock.
Paternal friend he is not,
We are his slaves to fit in with his remorseless pace.
But no tyrant is he, just devoid of compassion,
We climb at his pace some times too slow some times too fast
Not enough, too much.
But come the end, t’is us that run out of ...........................
With in this natural order we augment time with events to remember
We pepper time with our own achievements
Or scar it with indolence and tomorrow live with all.
So we visit time in our allotted place
To be a part of what will be history,
To make our mark
So time is marked by nature and by man
The naturally occurring order
And the events that he achieves
And we celebrate ...its passing and our events with in it
A new year...a birthday’
The first man to...the discovery of....
The end of... what one was doing when...
Deaths.
And we remember, reflect, and by our nature run the
Gauntlet of emotions that fall to mortal imperfection.
But on the whole we count less our losses and tend to celebrate
Than morn and even then some call it a wake if not
A party!
All that separates one year from another is a number,
Begun by a birth in history, has many parties latter,
Arrived at a number that by dint of our decimal numeric has made special
a millennia
By the three score year and ten most should see a century turn but few the millennia made special