Sic Transit Gloria Mundi
Whispers time in shadows cold,
As fleeting fame and fortune fold.
Like autumn leaves in silent fall,
Our grandeur bows to time’s final call.

In twilight’s veil, where shadows blend,
I ponder life’s swift, fleeting end.
The crowns we wear, the thrones we own,
Are but brief echoes, soon overthrown.

We chase the wind, we grasp at air,
Seeking permanence that isn’t there.
Our legacies, like sandcastles high,
Crumble beneath time’s relentless sigh.

And when our names fade to memory’s night,
What remains but silence, void of light?
No monuments, no epigraphs to claim,
Just the void, and night’s eternal frame.

Sic transit gloria mundi so passes the glory of man,
A fleeting dream, lost in the abyss where none can stand.

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