Poem, That mysterious river of time.

As a plume of haze sprouted into the dusky sky above a Great Desert.

A mysterious river emerges and dimmed as the setting sun faded within the vista.

The sun,

which was cladded in its usual garnet garb,

Paced at the skyline,

Prying the horizon with its finest crimson booze.

Underneath was the ending streth of the desert,

deep and devoid,

prestigious and august,

bearing the odd combination of bustling solitude and deafening muteness.

The ancient river,

Which was strewed across the desert,

Was lost to time as the centuries passed.

The ancient courses of the river of time had change and even altered,

Abiding to a perptual transition throughout the ages.

Yet....

As all things become lost to time,

The river of time strenuous flow never dwindled.