Time

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Time

Time rushes by like an angry river ripping and thrashing at its banks,
Overwhelming all that beseech its question of significance,
It will not stop to glance at broken hearts or empty eyes,
Its will is to impose the wrath of our own dark demise.
Shall we watch in a stupor of tangled judgment,
As the sinister force of our own misguidance takes hold to the end of days?
All that we once lived for has become a vanquished memory,
To love and honor and obey are words of nothing more,
Replaced with deception, hatred and greed will be forever more.
Unless we realize our fate and change the fleeting minds,
Of generations still to come with strength as well as pride,
One small step is all it takes to realize our path,
Will you join me in the fight to get our values back?

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Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.

T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

jeb’s Poems (10)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Alone 1
My Child 1
Mystery 0
Free 0
My Chamber 2
Words of Love 1
Deliver Unto Hell 0
Looking Glass 0
Time 0
Impressions 2