Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
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Whats given free is taken free away That born of time may come, but doth not stay Life's gifts it seems are given by time's hand And such it is they never long shall stand And yet these simple words, where all began Endure, for they support a grander plan Thank you Will Egal Bohen..
Awesome I like this poem, check mine out