Time Only Stares

Time stares into the void
That constitutes all that is, was,
And will be destroyed;
Her countenance exhibits no cause,
For all she sees, 
For nothing she cares;
For Time, she only stares.

“But I shall persist,
And all that changes, shall I resist”,
Says Triumph, obstructing Time’s gaze;
“Others were others, I am anything
But just a phase!”.

With much enthusiasm does Triumph linger,
In endurance, quite well he fares,
But Time, as she watches, the void,
Unbeknownst to him, consumes him to his last finger,
“But all went well,
On what grounds
Must such grandeur quell?”, 
He cries of realisation;
Time only stares.

Tragedy, in the meanwhile,
Detests her presence before Time,
“My existence, it's so vile
Sufferers of mine deserve not upon them
Such a heinous crime!”.

And the void allows Tragedy
The slowest and most inconspicuous demise:
A devouring that begins from within:
She shrieks and she cries;
She pleads for it to pass,
To end it quickly she tries;
“Why do you force these
Last moments upon me,
When, to you,
The end is afterall certain to be?”,
Tragedy demands, with only her echo left;
Yet Time is deaf, to an affair so mere;
Time only stares.

Come more such Triumphs,
Come more such Tragedies;
“Let them”, says Time in her solitude,
“And watch with me”, says she to all the willing;
For beyond contrary fallacies,
Time only stares.