Don't Waste Time
The sun ascends with golden light,
To chase away the shroud of night,
But as it climbs the morning sky,
The hours begin to flicker by.
A silent thief with velvet tread,
The day departs, the light is shed,
And what we planned to do at dawn,
Is lost within a tired yawn.
The clock upon the ancient wall,
Is measuring the rise and fall,
Of every breath and every beat,
Of winter’s frost and summer’s heat.
It does not pause for king or slave,
From cradle-side until the grave,
Its steady pulse is cold and clear:
The end of everything is near.
We say, "Tomorrow I shall start,
To follow what is in my heart,"
But "tomorrow" is a phantom land,
A castle built on shifting sand.
It promises a fairer day,
While keeping all your dreams at bay,
Until the weeks become the years,
And hope is drowned in quiet tears.
