Like as the waves make towards the pebbled
shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
Nativity, once in the main of light,
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crowned,
Crookèd eclipses 'gainst his glory fight,
And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth,
And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,
Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow.
And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.
Second after second, minute after minute,
hour after hour. Time is relentless, isn't it?
Like waves crashing on the beach it just
keeps coming one after the other, one moment
takin' the place of the next. So you're born,
and you crawl through your childhood and become
an adult. And at the peak of your time here
on Earth, Time starts to take it all away
from you. Everything he gave starts to
go, y... your skin becomes wrinkly, y... y... your youth
starts to fade away.
Y'know.
Everything that's been given to you is there
to be cut down by Time.
Well, I've got this poem and all my poems
about you. So let's hope they stand the test
of time.
