THE TIME MASTER

The Time Master is slinking
Through the corridors of time,
Deciding whose life continues
And whose life shall decline.

Putting sand into an hourglass
While another's sand he removes,
One shall gain a good forty years
Another person will surely lose.

The good die young, or so they say
The Time master doesn't even care,
He gives or takes at his own whim
And sees no reason to ever be fair.

The sand is most commonly yellow
Yet it's sometimes, brown, or red,
Yellow means an uneventful lifetime
A good life when all is done and said:

Brown sand means a life of suffering
When all hope of success has fled,
Red sand is the sand of eternal pain
When truly you'd be better off dead.

White is the colour of success
When everything always goes right,
The sand of billionaires and moguls,
The sand of hope, of a very long life.

The Time Master is slinking
Through yellow jaundiced halls,
Emptying or filling hourglasses
That line the yellowing walls.

Time is running out for many
For others, it goes on forever,
As the good die oh so young
The many evil will suffer never.

THE END
© Copyright 2022 Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia