Time

Time heals all wounds and the deepest scars.

It explains the incomprehensible and the mysterious.

It reveals intimate secrets and the cleverest lies.

Time dulls past memories but makes real the dullest visions.

It eternalizes instants but vanishes long histories.

It revives the forgotten and forgets the arrogant.

It encourages the weak and humbles the powerful.

It covers infinite space, yet it enslaves minds and bodies.

But time is not fair and much less compassionate.

It's too fast or too slow. It's too short or too long.

It's a chance and a test. It's a luck and a disgrace.

It doesn't show mercy in moments of repentance.

It doesn't reward whatever hardwork and perseverance.

It's said to be the most precious, but in fact it's commonly wasted.

And people try to conquer though it never lets itself be managed.

It's said to be divine, and bad timing becomes an excuse for failures

while good timing is attributed to the lucky one's power.

It's not people who pursue times; it's time that comes.

It's not people who get ready for the right time; it's time that prepares.

And now time has come to me, the time I have cherished for so long.

It's telling me to stop, so that I can start.

It's telling me to leave, so that I can go.