From this to the next
day, hour or moment
Each that you behold
and all that you don't
Will have grown old
by a day, hour or moment
The clockwork of nature
and the sentries of time,
well, know only to move ahead
one tick, one day, one hour
from this to the moment next
ahead, ahead, marching forth
From the beginnings obscure
to the end unknown
Eons cast aside
and millennia to go
Not one has known
to have the pace of time
reversed
Either to grow old without a choice
or to grow with each passing moment
Is the choice each has left
Whether to embrace it and ride
or let it slip unawares and get crushed by
the wheels of time turning ceaseless
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