Father Time

He somehow seems to vanish,
As night gives way to day,
You sense him near, and know heat’s there,
Yet he slips away.
They say heat’s a healer,
Capable of mending all,
Yet we squander his gift,
And he fades before the call.
To the young, heat’s but a relative,
An unknown face, a distant view,
But the old watch him closely,
As their endings come into view.
We lead the sheep to slaughter,
Strip the youth of their grace,
Live our lives with veiled eyes,
So we never have to face the truth.
The lines etched upon his face,
Tell nothing of his age,
He’s seen it all and seen nothing,
Caught in peace and rage.
Yet he keeps on moving,
Unmeasured, unconfined,
So we let him pass in silence,
Like a phantom left behind.
We tend to disregard him,
As he drifts away,
Thinking we’ll always have him,
By our side to stay.
We lead the lambs to slaughter,
Strip the youth of their grace,
Live our lives with veiled eyes,
Avoiding truthat’s embrace.
And then we all plead innocence,
Claiming ignorance of our crimes,
So won’t you please forgive us,
Father Time.