It Is A Mystery Which Makes

It Is A Mystery Which Makes

It is a mystery which makes

Time go by in an instant so

We barely notice how it takes

Whatever, and we let it go.

Now, if it took a day to pass,

A week, a month, even a year,

In looking back on what it was

We’d see how it did disappear,

And might object a bit more to

Its passing in that slower way,

(Considering what we could do

To make time as it passes stay)

But, as it goes, all that we do,

Is use it as we’ve often done

Whilst wherever it’s going to,

The mile without it isn’t run.