Time...

An enigma.
A mysterious wonder.
A feeling,
An emotion,
A fluid moment,
Immeasurable,
Chaotic,
And yet, systematic.
What begins will definitely end.
What is born must die.

The days bleed into weeks.
Weeks bleed into months.
Months bleed into years.
Years to decades and decades to centuries.

And before one knows it, life as we knew it changes.

Technology changes.
Fashion repeats in full circle.

Wars repeat.
Idiocy conquers, it seems,
Disappointing Father Chronos.
For he watches us,
Hopeful that we'd learn.

Mercifully, he sends us a do over each new year.
But people do over the wrong and undo the good.
They unlike the kindness, and like the nasty crimes.

Time's Instagram feeds look like these,
As he sighs heavily and shakes his head disbelievingly.

And whispers into the vortex: "My children, I believed in you. I believed you could be so much more. But you have disapointed me."

And so father Time turns his back on the vortex and walks off into the darkness of the abyss in his Palace.

The once busy corridors now emptied.
For no one makes it to eternity anymore.
No one remembers him.

Down the halls,
Father Time peers at the large walls.
Emptied of images he'd once hoped would be true.
Of a peaceful world filled with love and laughter.
A sun shining in the meadows as children played freely.
Women walking alone and driving and doing whatever they wanted, feeling happy.

But they're now all black canvases.
The crimes and darkness of the world have painted over his art work.

Saddening Father Time even more.

"When will this end?" He asks himself.
Already knowing the answer.

For the end is certain but far away...
Do good, dear ones.
For the end isn't pretty for those who do wrong.

_____________________

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