The ages pass, and men grow slowly old,
Time moving fast, a merciless command,
And now the people ask if time is gold,
If it performs a task so truly grand.
The man who knows disdain does answer no,
In time before the pain he once was glad,
Now sadness reigns, his heart is ever cold,
He knows the pains he once had never had.
The happy man does answer loudly yes,
He now does stand atop the golden stair,
He does remember well his old distress,
And will quite gladly tell of dead despair.
Yet neither speaker knows full well the truth,
For as emotion grows, it blinds the sleuth.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written January 1, 2007