Time moves like a river wide,
yet I remain,the turning tide.
A thousand suns have burned and died,
but still,I stand-unsatisfied.

I've walked through ages,seen them rise,
empires bright,then dimmed goodbyes.
Watched lovers weep and children grow,
felt winter's breath and summer's glow.

A gift,they call it-life unchained,
no fear of death,no flesh constrained.
Yet memories weigh like endless stone,
a heart unchanged,forever alone.

The stars may shift,the seas may dry,
mountains crumble,echoes die.
But here I stand,unbowed,untamed,
a whisper lost,yet still unnamed.

For what is time,if not a friend,
that walks beside you till the end?
But I have none-just endless days,
a hollow soul in boundless haze.

So grant me rest,or grant me flight,
an end to dark,an end to light.
For immortality's cruel art-
is life unending, without heart.