History’s Time

A poem

Photo by Louis Maniquet on Unsplash

How the disease of time

will ride to every prevail.

It gives no hope of letting go,

just a promise of mankind’s lucky touch.

Leave, I tell it.

It does not but yet, smiles.

I shudder in fear of the evil it will awaken,

the evil that will grasp us all.

Leave, I repeat.

It does not but yet, smiles.

I cannot, it says.

For I live in time,

and in time,

I am in your vein.

You will perish,

but I will survive.

I have race time from the start;

I have only fallen behind.

But when I emerge, you will see:

history has and always will be mine.