What's in a Name?
In my age, there is solace,
Genesis of new life.
In my passage, there is destruction,
The very instrument of entropy.
In my age, there is wisdom,
Understanding born of strife.
In my passage, there is hope,
The very instrument of humanity.
I am not the beginning.
I am not the end.
I am all that is in between.
Genesis of new life.
In my passage, there is destruction,
The very instrument of entropy.
In my age, there is wisdom,
Understanding born of strife.
In my passage, there is hope,
The very instrument of humanity.
I am not the beginning.
I am not the end.
I am all that is in between.
♠ ♠ ♠
--Spoiler Alert--In case I failed to convey "Who" the who is in this poem, It's Time itself.
This one I wrote in all of about 15 minutes. I think it pieced together very nicely. That being said, Here comes the self loathing. I feel likes it's cliche. I think I've read something akin to this in every poetry book I've ever seen. Some poor sap attempting to describe or personify the very...Essence... of time. God help me, Another cliche.
Feedback is appreciated. Preferably negative. Positive does nothing but boost my ego.