Tick And Then Tock

Tick, tock…a clock
tells its time. Tick, tock…
inside, you do the same;
it may match the clock but likely
it does not; you find yourself
wondering where it went
and sigh lightly over how fast
it did. Tick, tock…
the geology goes even slower
than the both of you do;
time seems graded, series of
gears moving according
to size with some whirring by
and other, vast others, barely
moving at all. Meantime,

you are stuck here in a center
that moves not at all. Your friends
go tick, tock, ticking and talking
on and on about nonsense
they believe, about concrete items
you sense mean more to them
that you suspect are nonsense too
and all around a universe whirls and you
at that center, waving a hand, saying,
“let it go, tick tock, tick tock; let it go.”

Well now: one of these days, you are going to die.
No more will the days and its clocks
chatter tick tock, tick tock — hell, not even
tock tick, tock tick, then tick…and at last, tock;
you will watch as friends and loved ones sob
fiercely or quietly; or maybe not at all?
You’d be surprised at that for a moment
and then it would pass as you will pass.
You will grow silently quiet and drift past clocks
and calendars into no time, not one second more;
the prayers of the faithful, the sneers of those
who remain unconvinced, the shrugs of those
indifferent to any of it will not matter at all;
you will say, “let it go…let it go;” you will shine
a bit longer, ever more faint; you will fade into
a thrumming echo in someone’s beating chest —
saying always to them as they approach the Divide,
“tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock…tick…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T