In consciousness rises the poet’s plight:
Cursed with knowing time is fleeting; slipping
Past; each moment another dying light;
As, from our birth, those flames are flickering.
Days lost become years; progressing quickly,
Faded and forgotten; surrendered to
Accelerating relativity,
‘Fore the call of skills neglected renews.
Imagination yearns for expression,
And – as this journey hastens toward its end –
A stab at immortality; Passion
Racing the doom we cannot comprehend.
Crafting perfection
is my endeavor;
Some scrap of verse that will
live forever.
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