Time Flies || By Emmanuel Iddio

At night I hear the nightingale,
Great singer from above,
Handwork of a perfect artisan,
Sublime in all things imagined.

He sings a song eternal,
That time come and pass bye,
That our part is very short,
At its end we may find comfort.

In the morning the cock crows,
It’s time again for hustles,
But keep apiece in mind,
That time flies, there is no rewind.

Time is like a treasure,
It melts away,
Tomorrow like today,
Only becomes another yesterday.

Time is precious in the hands of its maker,
He limits every man to every tick tock,
For in time the flower blossoms,
In time the seasons change.

I record great events in my timeline,
Memories that cling to time,
We go in search of answers,
We can only brainstorm to the end.

For now is limited,
Next is eternal,
But only now can get me there,
Now is precious for there may be no tomorrow.

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