Times a purgatory

Why is time such a thing to use mortal beings? Do we fear with each passing year a part of life is lost? What is important in the past? What will happen in the future? All these things are futile, fear incarnate Is all we see in the here and now? Is all that we can be deiced when were young? Or is all that maters when were old and we can do no wrong? Most men’s view on death is mine on life in fear Lost within there own lies of life Not seeing what is really here