Dedicated to those who wish for more time.

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The mystery of time is incomplete.

You never know what is going to happen next,
You hope whatever you do will be right,
And if it’s not, you wish on the heavens
You can change the mistake.

The anger you build up hoping,
Your life will change, maybe disappear,
Will sometime burst from its cocoon,
And what are you going to do then?

Time never stops; it’s a fact of life.
Maybe sometime, in your dreams, it will,
But the fact of life remains the same.
You can’t hide from the fear of time,
Of making the same mistake over and over
You can not runaway, but you may try.

Time can play tricks on the innocent mind,
But once it does, the innocents will be gone.

Time, the ever mystery, of the man,
May lead you into the doubts of you, yourself.
It can cause even the powerful Lord to step down from his place
And maybe think over its guide for its subjects.
Time can bring down the poor, the rich, and the normal
Into the tiny pieces of thoughtfulness.

The mystery of time is and will ever be incomplete.

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