A poem entitled Tick Tick Tick

Tick Tick Tick

We speak of time

In prose, conversation, and rhyme

Yet we so often forget it is a valuable commodity

The clock ticks

Marking each moment until eternity

Some cruel cosmic joke that is linear

Leading itself into the realm of finite

Time, so benign

Until you find that it can bite

It keeps its secrets and keeps them well

And laughs at the plans that lead us to hell

Time is a construct we created ourselves

And now we are slaves to its power

As we count every minute and monitor every hour

It has become nothing more than a fact of life

We are rats in a maze searching for the prize

But in the end that prize is our demise

Time is a killer

Through eons, and seconds, it sets the snare

And we can’t resist

Willing we enter

Because it is there

It is unstoppable

It is inevitable

And our only defense

Is grace

To face the clock

Accept the ticking

And know that age

Is nothing more that the unwilling gift of time

Wisdom and grace

You can call it pointless

Our inevitable death

You can rebel against the heart that beats within time

But it will do you no good

Until you can face the hands of the clock and bend them to your will

Till you silence the ticking and feel the still

That comes to you when you have time to kill

And linear is nothing but a simple line, drawn in pencil

A creation that is an erasable line


One comment on “A poem entitled Tick Tick Tick

  1. wymry says:

    I love this poem. There are so many lines I like in it. You have some great observations.


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