God and Time On Parade
Intently,
I listen for any sounds of Fife or Drum;
But with no visual perception,
I find only muteness of time marching on;
In its own manner it pilfers our memories
Leaving Granite chiseled names,
And pillaged spaces where faces did dwell.
Time bequeaths each a past,
Grants the present millisecond,
And conveys hope of a future.
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