Surely every man walks about like a shadow with him not knowing when it may vanish.
His riches today is another man's inheritance
And his name,he may remember no more .
As the flower blooms and later withers away,
So is men in the eyes of time .

Time,the Judge of all men
In his hands every man is vulnerable
And with his happenings no one is assured of.

He measures every state of man with accuracy and no memory can escape him.
He shows man that,even in his best state he is nothing but Clay.

Certainly, every man at his best is but vapour.
The days of men no man can count and his end no one can predict.

© Green olive Tree