The Dangers of Practical Time Travel

To return to the past
One must go fast,
Outrunning what lights their way,
And one cannot see
What the future may be
If they try to outrun the day.

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In His Eyes

O eye, like glass, unmoving,
Though once ye stormed, and bright!
Why giveth ye now nothing?
Where gone your childish light?
O eye that stares, and steadfast,
What living death contain?
What silence now ensnares you
Where once did tempest reign?