The faceless god

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Time is the faceless god.


It walks between galaxies, stirring the stars like embers in a dying fire.

One moment, you are the golden child of dawn;

the next, you kneel in the temple of midnight,

offering your light as sacrifice.


It pulls silk from the air,

weaving dawn into dusk without a sound.

A single breath, and you are the sunlight spilled across a meadow;

the next, you are the shadow trembling beneath its own tree.


It grows kingdoms in the palms of your hands,

then turns your grip to sand,

watching the empires slip through your fingers

with a smile you will never see.


Love is its greatest trick.

A warm sun it lends you for a season,

only to tilt the world and watch your summer turn to frost.

The arms you thought were forever

become shadows that pass you like fever.


Time never steals.

It only trades.

Miracles for moments.

Hearts for spades.

-_-


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