Time

Our love will go ever, ever on.

Even when the warm waves,

Of these isles of June,

Reclaim her ancient limestone chain,

It will march on forever.

Even when the last

Fairy tales of men,

Are eaten away,

By the cording winds of time,

Our love will remain as legend.

And if the only tongue to wag

In testament to our love

Is the mighty tongue of the Ocean

The witness of our deep love

Will last.

For even when Cat Island,

Relinquishes itself to the waves,

And Mount Alvernia is the crown of a coral reef,

And the hermitage its only jewel,

Our Love will tower above the sea.

When we are forgotten,

And our lives the treasure of archeologist,

No one my dear will have to dig deep,

For the footprints of our love.

Even today it runs strong like the roots of the Silk Cotton,

Even today it is the reason the coquettish Poinciana

Shakes her crimson locks.

And on a day when they no longer exist,

The ghost of their branches will send ripples in time

To wave in the undying parade of our love.

For when the all of the pages ever written,

Have yellowed with age,

and the magnificent halls

Of all the great places of the earth become empty

and hollowed of all their grandeur.

The art of our passion shall remain.

Even when men are mining ,

Mountains on the moon,

There shall be songs sang of

How perfectly we loved each other today.

And even on days not so perfect as this,

We will leave a golden legacy,

A testament to the love of mankind.

One to which others can say,

See how mercy, forbearance, and benevolence,

Made a tide pool out of the vast ocean of time.

For time is no tyrant to a love such as this.

For a love as defiant as this

For a love as precious as this.

For a love that claims eternity as its inheritance,

One that demands forever as a dowry,

Shall continue past the time this galaxy

And other galaxies beside whisper their last.

For even when our sun dims on this,

Fragile little planet we call home

And cools the rotation of our solar system,

Other stars far beyond the shores of ours

Will burn with the heat of our love.

And the very fabric of space will be as incense

Burnt in thanksgiving for a love that doesn’t only

Stand the test of time, but tests time.

Owns time, stops time.