The Flow of Time

An eternal foe;
It races ahead.
I hopelessly chase,
But the chasms
Remain unbridged...

I have an end.
Bourns I cannot exceed.
But it races on,
Outpacing my kin;
My posterity.

Washed in the flow,
My body and my soul;
I defend its blows.
But it leaves me scarred,
Wasted,
Weak.

It drains my body,
Steals the gloss from my skin.
Skin as fragile
As butterfly's wings,
But devoid of their beauty.

The feet that held me upright,
The head that held high,
Looking the world in the eye,
Now droops like a flower,
Too heavy for its stem.

Sounds circumvent.
Engulfed in emptiness;
Haunted by silence;
But the steps of the one I chase,
Ring clearly in my head,
Getting feeble,
As I fall behind in the race.

An eternal fog palisades,
Clouding my vision.
The sunrise and the sunset
Blurred to a meaningless glow.
No different from a bulb,
That listlessly shines
In the attic

The greatest debilitator,
Also the greatest healer.
As it renders the panacea.
Frees me of all my woes,
My miseries, my pains.

It gives me
My anodyne.
It gives me
My death.