My mind is no clockwork.
It has no mechanistic rules of a clock, has no one destination, or a repetitive circle of lines on the edge of Time.
My mind is constrained by the jail of clocks and schedules:
5:00 AM — Wake up take a shower brush my teeth
5:30 AM — breakfast downstairs. Come down honey
6:00 AM — get into the car child
6:59 AM — tick tick tick tick…
6:59; 99 seconds —tick—
7:00 AM — the bells ring. They shout. School begins.
It ticks me off.

Post-schooling schedule similarly
Programmed. 15 minutes review each material I learnt for each subject.
Then homework:
30 minutes Math; 60 minutes Language; 60 minutes Spanish vocabulary
60 minutes European history; 40 minutes Biology; 60 minutes Physics.
Sleep.
Tick tick tick tick…
Times up. The line has come full circle.
5 oclock—Wake up take a shower brush my teeth...

Focus, Concentration, deficiency of
Imagination are the keys to the chest of success
They say.

My life is a clock, but my mind surely is not.

My mind was once alive: think it and it was.
I was the architect of my universe.
I called, and volcanoes answered.
I spoke and my stuffed animal laughed.
I sang and the world would blossom.
Alas, I am no longer a child.

Relativity they tell you
But they do not tell you
Einstein found it through escaping the clocks.
Time is fluid, changing…
The physics that tells Time says so!
Can’t they see?

Yet in the incarceration of Time, I find my release:
Music.
A plethora of feelings to sense.
In the borders of fifteen minutes
I feel
The ocean collide against the shore of California last summer,
The unsullied air of freedom.

There is movement and direction,
Great velocity which slows my Time.
The violins rapidly
Accelerate to a
Climax in the scherzo of Beethoven’s
Choral Symphony.

With Music, I feel the fury
And anger God released in the Flood—
Yet even Methuselah
Did not live to experience that.

And I am a bird, flying through
The Amazonian air
Alive breathing fresh,
Through the flute.

And there is stasis and mourning.
I reminisce to China
And the warm evanescent
Embrace of departed
Grandparents.
Now it is infinite.

I swim slowly in a mix of unblemished
Honey, inhaling underneath
Through the reverberations of the cello.

With Music I am a rice cooker releasing my steam.
Though I cannot dance,
I am dancing in the Great Palace.

Through the timber of my clarinet
The awe and magnificent
Sense of triviality
In a Gothic cathedral
I experience in my room—15 by 15 feet.

Anything everything
I can feel,
For in order to understand
Music, one rules Time and rhythm.

It reverberates all around me
A blanket of sound
How sweet the sound of amazing grace!
My mind is released—My chains are gone!
Repeat this sounding joy. Joy to the world!

For a clock is a cell
Of repetitive thoughts,
But this Music subsumes the world
And all the feelings in it.