The Merchant of Time: A Completed Course

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I met a man who sold the hours of fate,
His wares unseen, yet weighed in mortal breath.
He smiled, a whisper soft, "Thy youth I'll consecrate,
In coin of soul, to stave off pain or death."
His eyes, like ancient glass, held fleeting light,
Reflecting seasons lost and untold years,
He offered solace from the coming night,
A fleeting respite from a world of fears.

"What wouldst thou trade to pause the reaper’s stride?
A lover’s touch? A crown? A fleeting flame?
A child's soft laughter that in memory died?
Or whispered solace from a tarnished name?"
I saw the phantom hands of futures bright,
A tapestry of 'what-ifs' yet unspun.
I gave him dreams where silent sorrows hide,
And bought the world — yet lost my truest name.
The vibrant hues of morning skies grew dim,
Each stolen moment left a hollow ache,
A silent bargain with the spectral whim,
For joys I knew I could not truly take.

Men sell their peace for thrones of rusted gold,
And buy delight with time they cannot spare.
Their stories whispered, centuries old,
Of hollow triumphs born of cold despair.
They chase the echoes of a distant chime,
Exchanging quiet grace for fleeting fame.
But every joy, too dearly bought or sold,
Is signed in blood and sealed in cold despair.
The phantom ledger, marked with crimson stain,
Records each laughter paid, each tear untold,
A chilling testament to human pain,
A legacy of futures bought and sold.

So guard thy span, let none thy years demand—
Life’s not for sale by Death’s unholy hand.
For in each sunrise, in each fading gleam,
Resides the essence of a living dream.
Demand no profit from this transient stay,
But lend your moments to another's gray.
You are but nature's phenomenal design,
A fleeting wonder, meant to glow and shine.
Fear not the final silence, nor the close,
But strive to live the purpose life bestows.
Embrace the journey, let its lessons flow,
Complete the course, for that's the greatest show.
The greatest riches are the ones you sow.

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