The clock will tick until the spring runs dry,
Beneath the vast and ever-watching sky.
No matter if we build our towers tall,
The curtain of the night must eventually fall.
A king, a beggar, or a nameless face,
We all must leave this temporary place.
For life is but a spark within the dark,
A fleeting song, a faint and fading mark.
The roses bloom and then they turn to dust,
The strongest iron yields at last to rust.
We cannot trap the wind or hold the tide,
There is no golden corner where we hide.
But do not view the end with bitter fear,
For being mortal makes each breath so dear.
The sun is beautiful because it sets,
Beyond our sorrows and our deep regrets.
Our bodies fade like shadows on the wall,
Responding to the Earth's eternal call.
But though we die, the love we leave behind,
Is the only way we stay within the mind.