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Fleeting, flying
Racing onward never a change
seconds to
minutes to
hours to
days following nights without end
seasons,
years,
centuries
pass ing as kingdoms crumble.
Only Time is sovereign.
And what is man
with his works and his buildings
striving and
trying and
hoping to
leave behind some small legacy
his cities,
his kings,
he himself
all revert to creations dust
Only Time is sovereign.
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Poetry: Time
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