Time's Passing

time will tell what lips won't quiver and eyes will not see what fingers thither. A heart will not beat what a drum ekes out and a soul will not reap when a scythe pulls out.

essences of eons and stars in the sky, give way to immortal thoughts on high
but the meekest of mouse is the mightiest of foe when the largest of lions shows up to the show
nothing is the same or will be for too long and no bird will sing on the last day their song
for tis time we all want and all crave down the line, and is time that eludes even the rich when they wine

not a care or a whisper but a spine of iron guild will it "hole" all the water but nary a bridge build
to the needs of the land lover on a distant sea shore who cannot convey from there never more
there is a voice calling loud from up above high in the cloud
and down below the deepest trench to tear my heart with every wrench

this time will leave me soon and foul, for other purpose left on hour
seconds tick and a bead of sweat I wait for lover perhaps perchance
but time does mock the broken femme and teases harshly to do her in
so judge thee not but look on clock or count the chimes on old tick tock

will be your lonely lazy cell to hear those sounds forever hell
as prisoner to old Cronus' bars, in a bottle, on the desk, in the cabinet jars
it maddens me to wait upon any and all for things to abate and people to call
the sound of it causes such pain and ill will, I had enough of it all I'm up to my fill

silence is craved in abundance today not a moment to soon for this woman's melee
absolute quiet from time's taunting hands in a room full of black with no reprimands
or excuses to tell and apologies too just the passing so quietly of life in the room
without mercy or mirth or come uppance deserved there is a place for me and I'm sure it's reserved

where time once had captured what man could no longer hold, is I, is me, I am so bold
to dare stick out tongue and flick it the bird, so to have final stance and last giving word
and I sit in my tomb with a wry sickly smile when the rest of you sheep shall wonder all the while
is she sane? will she heal if given enough time? but too late, not so sad, she's gone-sublime

~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.