Among the rubble of so called life for man stands the clock, it has escaped many years of the sheer numbers of shrapnel from mans destruction to his home and yet even something as old and knowledgeable as this can't escape the massive heave of mankind to disturb it's weary home and his own beauty

It stares into the distance, thinking, fog of the blacken night does not rise above the tower to disturb it's thinking, it stands upon the city bearing only time and it's age takes off it's edge of people taking a breath in amazement, it's weariness can be seen now

This was mans beauty, but now it's man destruction and it will soon become part of the scenery of mans chaotic destruction for only his enjoyment, he thinks of only expanding his empire for his satisfaction and he will destroy his own beauty to ease his hunger for satisfaction for only weakened time until his hunger rings again

Destruction of beauty is prior knowledge for the amazement's of the world and they fear it is soon to come for all of them