Battle of Life & Time.
The times' book light the night sky,
Clouds move like light cotton,
Soft breeze kisses the soul,
I wonder if it's autumn.
Tall structures all seem small,
As the hero stands with hands on waist,
Pages burning and lighting the sky,
Thy hero is blest.
Confused; is the soul,
The world is up! To take,
Yet what restraints him,
Shackles unknown; ought to break.
What maketh man, man?
He knows some of it,
"Merry heart maketh cheerful countenance",
Suit lays ready, quite tightly knit.
Ready? the soul is cold,
It burns then exhausts,
Like an old roaring engine,
Times' book paying its cost.
Cost being too heavy,
Reluctant paying, burdening the mind,
Asking why is waste of time,
Wasting life is none other than a crime.