Tic-Toc

by

Jesse JB Neel

Time, the thief, who visits all, who pilfers every man, is petty in his labors, and takes but grains of sand. Each grain a day, swept away, a blemish on the skin, the slower gait, betrays the fate, of each and everyman. Time is time, time and again, only time is time's best friend, time began, and time will end, only time is time's best friend. For time remembers not the past, time cannot reverse, alas, nor forward, time cannot intrude, time is but an interlude. Here and now, time must exist, past and future in betwixt, never moving, never still, paces nature by it's will. Time is master of the flesh, all the senses, time will test. But in time's frailty, trapped in kind, lies salvation of the mind. Stacked and stored, safely caught, within the man there is a thought, a space where time cannot invade, a place, where memories are made. Memories are the final victim, fallen as if prey, last in line, the old home guard, tos't into the fray. And time in knowing, and in not, it's wretched, rigid, frigid spot, makes no effort to expend, for with the man the memories end. So mark your letters well my friend, and set them large and bold, for only letters set in line, can make the story old.