These things seem hidden,

Yet I, you, he, she, it, we, and they;

These folks all manage to drown in them.

In time.

Suffocated by fear and ignorance, it seems,

But this notion breeds in the qualities that it condemns.

The quietus of man takes up a cadence from somewhere else:

The timepiece.

The pendulum spurns people's pleas,

Their dreams of basking in just one last o'clock.

"A moment longer," they beg,

Yet it ticks and tocks them away without care.

When the last tick comes, do not fear it,

For it will take one with or without consent.