The time goes round and round. From start to finish, you can hear the voices but there's nothing you can do.

Because in the end there only is time.

Time.

The clocks move ever so slowly, yet in the end it tells the time at which is present.

Present.
Time.
A gift.
A reason of being.

Without it,
we won't exist.

We age,
grow old
then fall back at which the ground
we were made from.

The inevitable end
at which we all meet,
one way or another.

It's sad really,
especially when you know,
that you only live once.

Live once?
No.

You don't live once.

You live everyday,
but you die once.

So make the most of it,
and live a plentiful life.

Because in the end,
we only have the memories that prove,
That we lived,
such a life.