I wrote this a long time ago (english class in high school). Still seems to apply though. Nice to be able to share it here.
We walk through the archway of aging Time.
It smiles silently and bows its head down.
Onward we walk to a world in its prime.
On a ridge we stand. On our heads are crowns.
We remove our crowns and place them aside
And like all the rest we assume our frowns.
On the wings of despair we softly glide.
We drink deep of the Earth’s lost, wanting cry.
So we learn the game of wanting to hide.
Now at the bottom, look up at the sky.
In our ears we still hear heavenly chimes.
Sitting all together we wonder, why?
We’ve hidden our selves. That is the crime.
Now we must remember while still there’s time.