I learnt to treasure time, yet mourn its frantic pace,
The years and decades flown without a trace.
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Time waxes, wanes and swells and shrinks our interlude;
We grasp at time and wonder, shorn of certitude.
But as time runs its fluid course, I have to ask
What can it mean, why weight us with this cryptic task?
We search for confirmations, truths we can defend,
As meretricious time eludes us at the end.
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