The fire is dying

and the passion is slipping away

in the midst

of Time

Faint images and long forgotten faces

of the past

haunt the reality of the present

so much left to do

but unable to grasp in these hands

desparation

to find what I can't remember losing

it's all fading into the dense fog of the past

slowly descending

forsaken by youth

I remain

captured by Time

Penned by my hand on the 19th of Chronos, in the year 369 AF.