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When I do count the disc that sweeps the hour, Turning the here-and-now to there-and-then, Forcing me faster to final future, I know that I have come far and wonder when. Seems time is but a trip of to and fro A cyclic show about infinity. The years, the hours, the minutes they must flow. Past, present and future: a trinity. But to bring in the new, the old dissolves As balancing of opposites must rule. Ending at the beginning thus evolves. This time game, always mankind’s mind will fool.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2021

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