Time Will Flee

Praise be to the Narcissists,

Lords of the hedonist halls,

Who's dark and dusty libraries,

Contain the Volumes of the Fall,

So make our dedications,

Badges of honour all,

This way we are significant,

To the philosophies we enthrall.

Once it's gone you can't reclaim it,

Like Mother Natures touch,

The blessed are the sacrificial,

Like lambs in the slaughter house.

Revel in the dark mysteries,

Of Leviathan's labyrinth.

Flickering in the torch light,

While Gothic walls are closing in,

The bust of Ozymandius,

Looms large above the door,

The sentinel and guardian,

Of the Devil's abattoir.

Time will flee with ticking clocks,

Like the sands of Death's hourglass,

And those few who have no fear of time,

Are the only ones it will bypass.

 © Rupert de Paula