Clocks Tell Me Different
How runs the clock in the rivers of time,
How flows the current of clockworked heuristics;
Why can the tick and the tock
fall hard and fall soft,
Soft touch of felt feathers or hammered ballisitics?
Hushed are the audience as acrobat climbs,
Ticks teeter on cliffs and whispers do lull,
Let cool air slow the hot drums of your pulse,
Then crash a bloodful percussion: she falls.
But oasis of space, time makes no sound,
You airborne embryo, harmony calm,
Though a clock face might wink at me differently,
Here Time runs inverse to the pace of your heart.
Featured Image: all credit to Mariana Lopez