It's Time

Who, then, is this eternal fool
who takes himself to taste
each one of us as though he has
all of himself to waste.

And all the helpless mortals who
fall victim to his schemes
must, calmly, mark the him until
they die to serve his dreams.

A few may wish to put him off,
deny his right to pass.
Impede him, yet, he’ll pour regret
and stain your soul like glass.

In him he’ll come, you must accept,
to claim your metered soul…
but, in the end, the jokes on him
for whom the bell must toll.