Little Soldiers

Time, oh deft time and his tiny soldiers march on unto days unknown,

Seconds march quickly minutes almost as fast and soon an hour is gone.

My yesterdays were built on these tiny soldiers who march without refrain.

My tomorrow in all of its splendid hope begs not of time and its lucid game.

I shall awake be it by Grace, and I will take on the wonder of a new day.

I shall rejoice as these soldiers of my little time forge on to make new the way.

For me to rue this division and to cry longing for the soldiers to slow,

Is but the mere vanity, which gives unto the genteel spirit its final blow.

So march on my little seconds and pass the torch to your senior minutes.

And you these little minutes; pray I that thee be safe in your way to the hour,

That I may once more take in the fullness thereof in the offering of another day.

J. Allen Wilson © 2007