None know a cure
Of the sickness of Time
Youth, a fading memory
Old age, nothing more than the acknowledgment of death
Universal enemy to man and beast
Cunning
And calculating, Time shall win all wars.
Never resting
Never stopping
Over confident in ability, Man shall fall to Her superiority
Time will only giggle then sigh
Sadness hangs in the air for moment as in
Observance of the fallen
Drowning in a sea of white silk
Our minds become prey to memories of past
New and old, current or irrelevant
Time returns us with a smile and
A
Tear. Does she cry for me
Truthfully, no, she cries for her own pity.
Eagerly wanting her death
Maybe, she longs to be capture, to
Pass on to the next stage...
To feel the sweet release of death
Inciting new sensations of what lies beyond
These ties that bind us to this realm.

Now, go back and read the first letter of each sentence, and you will know the answer.