The wolf paces in its cage,
awaiting an uncertain certainty;
an end will come.
Change has begun.
But whether his jailer,
shall be his executioner,
is a question only time may answer.

Alone in a dark and empty room,
sits a clown in full dress.
His white face is painted,
running black and red from tears.
For time has come and gone,
And still it carries on,
with it life goes,
for good or for ill.

Cuffed and shackled,
she hangs from the wall.
Dead eyes staring,
in testimony to a decayed soul.
And though she yet breathes,
her master will one day,
ensure she withers, bleeds.

Amid an ocean of time,
sails a ship of all existence.
Universes of countless beings,
multiplied by infinity.
And each one a story.
Each one a saga,
an epic.
Each one an odyssey.
And all of them
cohabit this place and time.

In the end,
an ocean of time,
is only the water,
upon which,
existence has sailed.

And we are it,
they.
However short or long,
our place on its line.
we occupy it,
together.