Time marches on
cutting a swathe across humanity,
not the quicksand of death,
nor the currents of life,
slows it down.
It never stops.
The beating heart of all of man’s achievements,
or the reckless indifference
to his very own survival.
It has borne witness
to his rise, and rise, and rise,
as it now gazes upon
his stupidity
and fall.
Time is in unlimited supply,
the irony of which,
from all reports, is that
man seems to have
so little of it left.
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