The Unknown Stream of Time

How the exliir of lives scattered, are washed away off of the hands of fate into the rushing stream of time... 

To their death, time will bring them. For time's only job is to continue herself and continue change.

I can feel the wind of revelation swirling through the trees of life. Apocalyptic force not limited alone to death.

Amongst the soil of earth, shall these winds also carry new life through germination of seeds. 

As an island sits in the center of a body of water, does the earth sit in the ocean of space. How the waves of tenebrae wash o'er her shores back and forth: sweeping across, the essence of day and night.