time is a tragic jester
an immortal with no life
while with the lesser beings
he is something to be craved
but to the eternal ones
he is nothing but a slave
though he may serve his purpose
he is not sure why he does
he continues turning sands
given to him to control
how he can escape his hell
nobody will ever know
time is a tragic jester
with no life to call his own
Early poetry from James. From the poetry collection Pariah Bound: The Lonesome Poetry. Based on the visual work below found on DeviantArt.com.
James Pack 