Faceless creature this one, bows to none,

ranting, cursing, howling, despair, they will move not

the fingers of time will move as they will,

there can be no reruns

we cannot mold them to our will

no repeats

no playin catch up with yesterday

we cannot retrace our steps

for the sands of time have long erased their mark

overrun by a thousand other footsteps

I hear moaning, the leaves disturbed by their intimacy with the winds of change

they’d rather stay green, but the seasons will not bend to their will

I sense smoke as cloud walls clash, their fire released

my skin feels the chilly tingles from a brush with the rain

time, and time again.