What are you, Old Father Time?
An ancient mugger, lurking round the corner,
Skeletal gaze peeping from monkish hoodie,
Scythe raised with menace, waiting, eager
To cut our hopes and dreams to shreds?
Or are you just a kindly guide?
Nudging us down our appointed track;
An usher, touching the small of the back,
Ensuring we take our final seat.
Or do you, indifferent as the tide,
Watch the birth and death of stars,
While pulled by a current we can’t resist,
We drift into the drowning dark?
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