The black hands of the clock
Move endlessly
Unerringly
Impassive in their journey;
Around, and around again—
Don’t you see?
Trapped behind glass
Stuck in a circle
Still moving as the world goes by;
The sun sets and rises.
Time passes—
Lights burn out and
Lives sputter to an end
In much the same manner;
Caskets carried solemnly through
Rows of stained glass
Celtic knotwork, much like life:
I see the beginning, but—
Where is the end?
Does it ever end?
What will it be?
Will anyone even care?
Twists and turns and tangles
Yet the clock ticks still.
Time will go on—
Endlessly
Impassively
Unerringly
And we are powerless—
Trapped behind glass
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