The Clock's Hand

Free he ought to be

But his routine is written

Down to a ‘t’.

Nothing changes,

No breaks or quirks—

From waking to a new same day

To leaving his daily works.

No variety, no sudden moves

Always looking at

The clock’s hand

The clock’s hand snatched him

By his collar and took captive

This organized, ordinary man

Binding him in chains

Invisible and ever tightening

That leave marks of time

And many pains.

Take it off!

Look at the things around

Before they are gone-

The deer leaping in the fields

That will turn from doe to dust

Following the circle of life

That it must;

The sky

Of lazy clouds drifting by

With all the time in the world

And birds soaring on wind’s breath;

The good memories of past

But not for too long

Or you may think

Time too fast, too wrong.

Remember that what will come

Will soon forever last.

Into the future you must go

And think of all the wonderful things and people

You’ll get to know,

Leaving the past.