The Clock

(I wrote this one in high school and thought I was being brilliant; of course, perhaps somewhat appropriately, the themes is touches upon have all been brought up a million times before)

The Clock

The clock ticks on forward

Marking the grim procession

Grain after grain of sand

Falls through the universe’s hourglass

Each one its own universe

The world grows from young

To old, to ancient

To young again

And all is green and new

And all is black and dead

And life rises from death

As death rises from life

Like the phoenix that rises from ashes

Like the smoke that rises from flame

And ideas are realized,

Embraced, and discredited

And then are rediscovered for the first time

And nations rise and fall

And people live and die

And all of nature springs from a puddle

And all dance to the rhythm

Of the ticking of the Clock


About thevenerablecorvex

I have the heart of a poet, the brain of a theoretical physicist, and the wingspan of an albatross. I am also notable for my humility.
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