Is this my time or not?
Time flows into a man
makes its home there
then flows away ; the man remains
but his time has passed.
There was a time when the world was mine
and you were mine
and all would last tomorrow and tomorrow
and I was at my height; then it passed
The man still thinks
breathes and cries
but the time that belonged to him
has moved away.
There is no greater burden for a man
than to live
in a time
which is not his own
for time never loves
the children of the past;
everything flows swiftly and noiselessly
till no time remains.
you were so sure of yourself;
and now another time has come
as options fade to become commands.
A jolly fiddle or mournful trumpet
plays the tune of life
announcing for some their time has come
and for others, “Your time has passed.”