Time ebbs slowly by and is relative
So the saying goes.
It ticks away our lives.
Mere vapors are we, truly.

We live but for a time,
Cease, and are then forgotten.
What an unfortunate fate,
To be forgotten.

We live, love, and hate ---
Sometimes all at once.
What confused beings we are.
Refusing what we have,
Longing for what we have not.

Beings of contradiction are we.
And none escapes this foolishness.
For we are victims,
Nay slaves, of our own desires.

Masters of our fate?

Mere pawns I submit,
On a checkered game-board,
Of infinite possibilities,
And finite probabilities.

Copyright A.G. Poetry