The River of Time

The passage of time is a strange and winding river.

It has no set path, it only travels onward. You cannot control it, and can only hope to keep your head above water, to stay afloat and let the river take you where it will. At times it will lead you into the shallows, past gentle riverbanks where willows bow their heads. Sometimes it will pull you into the deep past jagged rocks where the current is strong and river-weed swirls in the eddies of the ever-changing tide.

And through it all you can hear it, sometimes far off, and sometimes all too close; the distant roar of the waterfall that lies at the end of the river. As all my life I struggle not to drown, to admire the starlight above me, to sink into the golden sunshine as it bathes me, and to enjoy every sight that I pass by, I know the waterfall is indomitable as it is inevitable.

I have never yet seen it, but when I do I imagine it will be as beautiful as it is terrifying.
It is coming, and I cannot stop it;

 As to what lies over the other side-

That is the last great mystery.