Spokes on time’s wheel

Are imprinted with name’s we steal

As the wheel turns, they disappear

Taking all that we once held dear

The watcher isn’t moved by those wheels

Having witnessed silence and what it reveals

Unlike the churning mind and its noise

Which silence can’t swallow when we give it voice

Time holds secrets our books can’t reach

They’re safe, it does not have the gift of speech

We’ve hitched a ride on the wheel of time

Leaving our wings in storage, to gather grime

Who is the driver of time?

Surely, someone more sublime

Than those with names and faces

They will, one day, fall from time’s good graces