Time’s Binding Travel

Molded in bodies of passion,

brought crying in sinners’ hands,

created we are fashioned in

wombs under time’s demands.

Self-restraint time does temper

with vision, sound and taste.

This world we are made enter,

is at times a heartless place.

Callus are the palms that

set us in our mothers’ arms.

Time has rend us to adapt to

those who fancy in our alarm.

Though practiced are hands

that extract us into this realm,

they suffer under the sand

of hour glasses up at the helm.

Share we the burden yes,

share we commonality in pain.

We’re not made to address

alone the pain found in veins.

Pouring out of our entity,

hands are there guiding us.

Places dark there are plenty,

so together we go as we must.

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