Clock and cloak.

These days before the clock and cloak,  Our living loving breaths Calculated by the times , numbered to our death, The unveiling of the light, where unavoidably we come to dust Before the grave we must intern To live in faith and trust, How undeniably painful knowing, each moment we embrace perceives, The sadness of a lover lost, in times unwilling, greaves This passion burns the average heart, yet ignites the soul The cloak, and master of the light In which death takes its toll.