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Description
With the space of a night
and a moment in time,
I'll have done it for you
I'll have made a fine rhyme.

But with dawn slowly creeping,
my will slowly leaking,
my eyes are still weeping,
at all of the time

I’ve spent on this poem,
this epic of rhymes.
Now time it enslaves me,
it speaks in a rhyme:

“With all of your gladness
and prowess of mind,
your heart and your courage
that's known for kind,

You could be a great ruler,
a tall magistrate.
but you must feel the hurry,
be pushed by the weight

of I, they call time,
the foul rival of old
of the young and the poor,
of the rich and the bold.

For I answer no mortal,
I am endless as god.
and the moment is coming
when you, too, shall trod

on my footsteps of bleeding,
of death and of pain.
And the knowing of suff'ring,
and naught but of pain.

But I come here to tell you,
with your qualities most high,
that a place has been set
for you large in the sky.

You will know not of sickness,
disease, or unhealth.
Nay, all you will know
is of power and wealth.

I come not to sway you,
but help you in boon,
for you sit in a chair
and write but of the moon.”

“What is it", I asked,
"you require of thine?"
“I ask of your quittance
of this you call rhyme.

It is lazy and useless,
and gain you shall naught,
so long as you tarry
and write of such trot.

For you I have opened
a path as so wide
as for you to keep living
with me by your side

But give up your writing
And the one that you love.
See? Love is my rival,
for her I spill blood.

She is rough and deceitful,
non-lasting and quick.
She stops at near nothing
to play a mean trick

on those of you humans,
who stupid and blind,
find form and mere fitting
to me above mind.

So, vengeful and wrathful,
she strikes like a dart,
and though kills not bodily,
she kills of the heart.

And so do I slaughter
the sick and the old,
the young and the wealthy,
the strong and the bold.

So that she may not have them,
they won’t feel her bite.
And for those who have known her,
for them, there’s no light.

I kill as I find them,
who’ve caught her disease.
I am tired and weary
of hunting, so please

find that heart deep within you
not punctured by love,
and help me to kill her,
the one that I loved.

For when I was with her,
So fair and so bright,
she too remained endless,
she ruled on my right.

Love was a beauty,
as just as was kind,
and lasting forever,
an intimate bind.

But for kindness she left me,
and not of for gain,
but of fearing our part,
and not see me again.

But bitter and cold now,
she rules from above.
Inflicting a harshness
that once was called Love.

And now so I ask you,
with a hole through my heart,
to help me to kill her,
to help us to part.

As long as you sit here
and write poems of love,
the more she will hurt you
from high up above.

But she won’t do it quickly.
No. That’s not her way.
She will peel off your closest
and send you to grave

She works through the people
you keep close to heart,
and slowly corrupts them
tears close ones apart.

And he who was stricken
by Love’s siren song
will endlessly wonder
at what had gone wrong.

And the vessels who stridently
gave in to Love’s will,
will carry a feeling
of nothing but ill.

And so she continues,
breaking loved ones apart,
and the ones who stay steady,
for them I will part.

With all of your talent
will you join me for sure?
Will you befriend me
and free man of her?”

And so on my thinking,
and realizing quick,
the one that I loved,
had played a great trick.

We loved one another,
but with another she went,
and so I am thinking
of the time that I’ve spent

on writing this poem
for my loved one, my dear.
Now I wish to make certain,
to make it quite clear,

that I’ll always be waiting
for that day to arrive,
when true love will find me,
stand right by my side.

But it seems Love has conquered,
the person that’s you.
You say we can’t be lovers,
you’re too sure that’s true.

So I’ll go off to find her,
with time on my side.
We will set off to kill her,
and ride the high tide

of the strong waves and waters
of true love at last.
And maybe together
we will be at last.

But if time and I find her,
and don’t stop her fast,
then long may I be,
and you lonely at last.

For time will still conquer,
and exempt you are not
from his all-consumed purpose
and death dealing rot.

And I’ll still be going,
with you on my mind,
with no other option…
than to give in to time.

Description
With the space of a night
and a moment in time,
I'll have done it for you
I'll have made a fine rhyme.

But with dawn slowly creeping,
my will slowly leaking,
my eyes are still weeping,
at all of the time

I’ve spent on this poem,
this epic of rhymes.
Now time it enslaves me,
it speaks in a rhyme:

“With all of your gladness
and prowess of mind,
your heart and your courage
that's known for kind,

You could be a great ruler,
a tall magistrate.
but you must feel the hurry,
be pushed by the weight

of I, they call time,
the foul rival of old
of the young and the poor,
of the rich and the bold.

For I answer no mortal,
I am endless as god.
and the moment is coming
when you, too, shall trod

on my footsteps of bleeding,
of death and of pain.
And the knowing of suff'ring,
and naught but of pain.

But I come here to tell you,
with your qualities most high,
that a place has been set
for you large in the sky.

You will know not of sickness,
disease, or unhealth.
Nay, all you will know
is of power and wealth.

I come not to sway you,
but help you in boon,
for you sit in a chair
and write but of the moon.”

“What is it", I asked,
"you require of thine?"
“I ask of your quittance
of this you call rhyme.

It is lazy and useless,
and gain you shall naught,
so long as you tarry
and write of such trot.

For you I have opened
a path as so wide
as for you to keep living
with me by your side

But give up your writing
And the one that you love.
See? Love is my rival,
for her I spill blood.

She is rough and deceitful,
non-lasting and quick.
She stops at near nothing
to play a mean trick

on those of you humans,
who stupid and blind,
find form and mere fitting
to me above mind.

So, vengeful and wrathful,
she strikes like a dart,
and though kills not bodily,
she kills of the heart.

And so do I slaughter
the sick and the old,
the young and the wealthy,
the strong and the bold.

So that she may not have them,
they won’t feel her bite.
And for those who have known her,
for them, there’s no light.

I kill as I find them,
who’ve caught her disease.
I am tired and weary
of hunting, so please

find that heart deep within you
not punctured by love,
and help me to kill her,
the one that I loved.

For when I was with her,
So fair and so bright,
she too remained endless,
she ruled on my right.

Love was a beauty,
as just as was kind,
and lasting forever,
an intimate bind.

But for kindness she left me,
and not of for gain,
but of fearing our part,
and not see me again.

But bitter and cold now,
she rules from above.
Inflicting a harshness
that once was called Love.

And now so I ask you,
with a hole through my heart,
to help me to kill her,
to help us to part.

As long as you sit here
and write poems of love,
the more she will hurt you
from high up above.

But she won’t do it quickly.
No. That’s not her way.
She will peel off your closest
and send you to grave

She works through the people
you keep close to heart,
and slowly corrupts them
tears close ones apart.

And he who was stricken
by Love’s siren song
will endlessly wonder
at what had gone wrong.

And the vessels who stridently
gave in to Love’s will,
will carry a feeling
of nothing but ill.

And so she continues,
breaking loved ones apart,
and the ones who stay steady,
for them I will part.

With all of your talent
will you join me for sure?
Will you befriend me
and free man of her?”

And so on my thinking,
and realizing quick,
the one that I loved,
had played a great trick.

We loved one another,
but with another she went,
and so I am thinking
of the time that I’ve spent

on writing this poem
for my loved one, my dear.
Now I wish to make certain,
to make it quite clear,

that I’ll always be waiting
for that day to arrive,
when true love will find me,
stand right by my side.

But it seems Love has conquered,
the person that’s you.
You say we can’t be lovers,
you’re too sure that’s true.

So I’ll go off to find her,
with time on my side.
We will set off to kill her,
and ride the high tide

of the strong waves and waters
of true love at last.
And maybe together
we will be at last.

But if time and I find her,
and don’t stop her fast,
then long may I be,
and you lonely at last.

For time will still conquer,
and exempt you are not
from his all-consumed purpose
and death dealing rot.

And I’ll still be going,
with you on my mind,
with no other option…
than to give in to time.