DaSoviet

60 seconds to midnight, the clock counts down, seconds move by.

The people race, for they know that the time is running out.

50 seconds to midnight, the clock continues to count down.

Little do we know what we have until they are gone.

40 seconds to midnight, the time drains away.

The rope of the familiar past disintegrates in the hands of the few who reach.

30 seconds to midnight, the time flows like Chrystal blue river.

Tears flow like gentle raindrops as many look back on an irreclaimable lifetime.

20 seconds to midnight, a wise old man smiles in contentment.

The hopes and aspirations of the people begin to rust away like old iron.

10 seconds to midnight, the wind blows by like one last breath.

The air becomes cool and content, and so passes the last moments of the people.

Midnight arrives, as if under a new fallen blanket of snow, the people rest peacefully; what they have done and how they have lived has been perpetually encased in a smooth and Chrystal clear glass. The sands of time wash over, as if it were a calm blue ocean. Like the people had lived, what remains of their existence is a relic of an unchangeable, but warm and familiar past. The wind is now calm as if after one last calm breath.