The March of Time

       The March of Time

Eternal is the march of Time,
Ever since the dark days of life
Its march is supreme and sublime
And offers no rest, no respite.

Every tick of the clock brings one
Closer to the night, to the day,
To the week, the month and the year
And makes the hair turn still more grey.

Every tick of the clock is a step
Further towards a mortal`s grave;
Every second that elapses
Is a stride towards the earthly cave.

Time is the conqueror of all;
Whether lords or princes or kings
At its altar in time do fall;
It respects no caste, rank or creed.

 As time do fly on its swift wings,
Grab it securely with both hands
And make the most of sacred life
While your sturdy strength still does stand.

Live a life that will bear your marks
On the earth in the days to come,
And bequeath to the young your footprints
For them better men to become.

Or else, life would have been quite vain
And just a long lingering death
In the the abyss of oblivion
And in time`s infinite length.