What is time but an abstract measurement of the expanse between birth and death?
A beautiful paradise; an island sanctuary of serenity and innocence.
Pure waters and ivory shores, serene and placid through time.
Alone in an ocean filled with misery and resentment,
bottomless and infinite, an eternity of sin.
Once ivory shores stained crimson by ignorance and weakness,
purity lost to nature and time itself, never to be remembered.
A paradise lost to memory, erased forever from time and reality,
existing only in dreams and reveries, truth wrapped in silken lies.
Washed away by the real memories of time,
safe haven broken by malice and greed.
What once was pure, now is torn asunder by evil,
innocence forgotten and replaced by temptation.
A meadow washed away in the currents of sin and betrayal,
taking with it the original virtue of man.
With innocence tossed away, drowning in the eternal depths,
sin weaves its way through the history of man.
Without change, there is no virtue.
Without virtue, there can be no life.
In the end, what are birth and death but the beginning and end of time?