THE SANDS OF TIME Seated me this day before the waters, the oceans flowing and flying, swiftly in her gracefulness, caring for no harm from all that might be her neighbours. The seashore gallantly adorned with multiple yet multitude of the sand of time of which is locked within it, the footsteps and footprints of all who ever did pasted by to say hi, or hello, as small as it may be. The sands of memory, The sands of time The sands of people, past and present, both great and low, the aristocrats of all time being. Seated in shadows cast… by the sun in its fullness, the fullness of its blaze blazing into the soul of men. Oh, even the blazing of glazing’s that preside upon the tides, the tides that be and flow upon the oceans view. Till moments all pass by, and all seizes to exist as though they never were, and though they never had been. But alas, only present be, the soul of men past, who through the world have been, their sojourn and travails shown by the clouds of witnesses which be over the horizon of the tinted cloud, tinted silvery peacefulness, a shower of intense tranquility, great as it may be, of the times, times and times. Till all be but a feeling, a past feeling of all ever imagined to have been in existence, an existence of all across the sand of time.