What is time? 'Tis a fickle thing; a blessing and curse. It grants wisdom, reflection, depth. But it kills. Yes. It brings death and uncheatable decay. 

     But to whom does this enigma serve? 'Tis neither for nor against; it simply is. But to oppose it? Impossible. Even now, I feel the waking hour. Go away! Nay, let me sleep! Let me dream endlessly. Let me see the stars, and the mountains and seas. Let me bathe in the starlight unaccounted for. Let me dwell in the vistas of reality that cannot be; my dreams and hopes that shall never come true. 

     Alas, this is the burden of time: always it flows, like a river. It must always go forth, slowly or quick. It may be hindered, perhaps, by man or nature, but none may stop it. The flows of time must always continue, whether we grant it permission or not. 

     Why doth we waste our time here on earth? Why, if be so short our lives, must we argue and hate one another? Can we not come together in a holy matrimony as brothers and sisters of a planet, undivided? Nay, we cannot. Not unless we are all of us granted the time to realize, the time to think, the time to understand...