The sands of time can whittle the body thin;

Once healthy and strong, now deemed weary.

Riddled by every grain extends the strain,

Sandstorms of the plenty

Choke up the many.

Trouble from the storm

Whirled by the sand

Obscures the fruitfulness of life.

The waves of time are the silent hunters

To go unforeseen until seen;

The crash of the wave is mute until overhead.

The unsuspecting engulfed and drowned

While the volley of spray washes away what remains,

Gasps for air go unheard and silenced by the water.

The wind is deceitful with songs of a lullaby;

A tune as soothing as any,

A hypnotic sound strummed by the wind,

Yet the wind can be unforgiving for trickery.

The shores of time show no mercy.

With the grains of sand,

With the hushed waves,

With the sense-numbing wind.

Escaping the shore

Is no easy feat,

Only the fortitude-stricken

May find their way

From the shores of time,

That is true triumph over deception.