Colin F. Jones


Time rewards us not with gain or hope,
Depletes the strength required for us to cope,
And brings us pain as we do slowly die,
Melting like snow beneath a Summer sky.
Yet we deceive ourselves and waste away,
Long before the dusk of our short day.
With idle time when not a thing is done,
Or losing wars that we think we’ve won,
For in the end our dreams and all things cease,
The desire for life doth seem to increase,
All through in our lives we wait and make no gain,
And for it suffer from our own made pain.
We have no time to wait, yet still we die
Promoting freedom with a battle cry.