Time

Time Is a simple word. A loaded word. A mysterious word. A frightening word. Time Speaks to the unknown. Unhindered, unafraid It transcends understanding, escapes comprehension. What is time? The steady ticking of a clock, counting down the minutes of existence? The passing of each day, the melting of a sunset into night? Yet if time is meant to be a fixed tempo, how can it fly? How can it slow, linger on the air? How can we tell, if time is a thing unseen? Perhaps time itself is a fallacy. A figment The illusion of a measure-seeking mind. Perhaps we have imagined time. Yet if time is unreal Why does it run out?