The Echos of Time

The Echos of Time

O'er the shadows of yesteryears, our gazes are cast,
In the crypts of bygone whispers, our eyes are fast.
With backs to the morrow, we stand in the night,
Neglecting the present, its gift lost to sight.

The clock ticks in silence, the moments it weaves,
Yet we're chained to the echoes that memory heaves.
The future—a phantom, in time's endless flight,
Lies veiled in the mist, just beyond our slight.

For when we are bound to the past's chilling grasp,
The joy of today eludes our clasp.
And the blessings that wait on the horizon's line,
Are but dreams in the dust, left to languish and pine.

So heed the soft tolling of the present's sweet chime,
Turn forth from the specters of your haunted time.
Embrace the bright now, with its promise anew,
And the future shall gift its blessings to you.

“When we are constantly facing our past,
We turn our backs to the gift of the present,
And the blessings of the future are far behind us.”

• S