In the twilight mystery, engrossed in the vagueness of my prospects, I ramble in man’s ephemeral thought: At what point do things happen? And how long is it now? How do I stave off this awful event?
Your time has not come, not yet! The sand trickles slowly, Down the hourglass Thanking the heavens above, You take a slow and deep breath With your loved ones around you Now the roads seem empty and vacant, Once bubbling with hurrying souls As the days morph into night To see the gift of Read more…
