Making Its Home in Clear-Glass Lands

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The very same rounded cheek
The same two mobile hands
But human it could never be
While it is strong
And we are weak
Its brothers grip our wrists
With bands
Earth’s rotation brings change
As an upturned hourglass spins sands
But the gilded rim stays set in place
Accepting revolution
In familiar range
Making its home
In clear-glass lands
The turmoil twists and strains us
As it traces our discontent
Turning again in satisfaction
Never strained
Never bent
It stays the course of marks and line
Unwaveringly directed
Knowing what will guide its path
Its offspring time
Protected
The sky may turn gray as night
The clouds may acid-rain
While time creates black from white
The moon may cease
To wane
For us, at least this is but life
For the Timekeeper
It’s surely strange
Ignorant to pain and strife
In patient glass
It sits unchanged




Excepting for another turn
Another twist
Another spin
Ticking while the flower wilts
Never to end
Or to Begin









Questions lie unanswered
While the watch knows everything
Of what will come; where it shall go
And yet
It still knows nothing





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