Passing Time- From the Archives

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 loves
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.

Just yesterday
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.”

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