Deceived by the Face of Time
Today is now here, and my tomorrow has now become my past.
Each new today happens to repeat exactly the same thing as the today
that was before. Slips so very fast right into that file labeled,
my past; once again disappears so quick. What my today has in
store for me never matters because it always comes and goes,
starts and ends, always circling and circling.
Why is my time like this? Does every human do this
as well? All of a sudden a flood light illuminates; I look
out to see the impossible. I'm no human at all but yet
simply a piece of wood hanging by itself on a bare wall. I
was nothing more but a time keeper, occasionally striking a
very low dull dinging every once in awhile. My arms no longer,
but wood that twisted 'round and 'round continuously every
second, every hour, all through the night and day.
My face a clock, old and dusty, chipped and
fading lighter in color. My purpose to be available.
Someone remove my lifeline! Must I keep this
charade up? How long till I finally unwind
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