Time

Each fleeting moment, never to return, goes on its way,
For time is never stationary, nor even halts a while,
Conforming to set pattern, each minute, hour or day,
Or year, or century, must follow in the wake, and keep in style,
No noise in transit heralding its continued passing,
Only mechanical device can signify to most humans, a calculation
Of the period elapsing, as into eternity it keeps massing,
To remain an unheard part of unfathonable creation.
For this impenetrable entity, cannot be used at will,
To suit any whim, wordly manipulation may devise,
Human decision cannot change its role to one of standing still,
Scientific approach cannot any attempt, successfully realise.
And from this continuation, where tarrying is never seen,
When the past can only linger by courtesy of the mind, so adept in its discerning,
The era of what was, or what might have been,
Is relentlessly engulfed, as the wheels of time keep turning.

As time stands still for no one, so are the days of our lives! That comes to mind when reading this one! Or even... a watched pot never boils but an unattended one goes dry!