As time rolls over the arid waste and briefly stops awhile to breathe under a shady tree, so I may pause. I may stop—let time fly on—I sit contented for a spell. But time will rarely stop—I’ve never known it to, and yet I try myself to stay, to breathe, to rest. Time rolls on eternally, and I am driven on. I who sleep must wake to find that time has outrun me.
Time rolls over the arid waste; I briefly stop awhile. I catch my breath, and then I’m off.
Let time forever roll.