• None know a cure
    Of the sickness of Time
    Youth, a fading memory
    Old age, nothing more than the acknowledgment of death
    Universal enemy to man and beast
    Cunning
    And calculating, Time shall win all wars.
    Never resting
    Never stopping
    Over confident in ability, Man shall fall to Her superiority
    Time will only giggle then sigh
    Sadness hangs in the air for moment as in
    Observance of the fallen
    Drowning in a sea of white silk
    Our minds become prey to memories of past
    New and old, current or irrelevant
    Time returns us with a smile and
    A
    Tear. Does she cry for me
    Truthfully, no, she cries for her own pity.
    Eagerly wanting her death
    Maybe, she longs to be capture, to
    Pass on to the next stage...
    To feel the sweet release of death
    Inciting new sensations of what lies beyond
    These ties that bind us to this realm.


    Now, go back and read the first letter of each sentence, and you will know the answer.