Time Piece

Old clocks get tired.
Nothing seems random.
There is no rest while the spring
grips taut intent,
or the electrons keep moving
across potential in constant current,
or the sun casts a shadow
on a face as old as humanity.
The heart knows this:
it reads shadows and rides
an electronic pendulum arc.
This journey of flesh carries
until the spring is slack
and the energy of who
we are finds a ghost,
wholly or in part.
My clock will not get tired,
it will just stop
in a quantum moment.


time piece heart


(clock: ednagallery.com; heart: m.harunahya.com) 

About Jim Stewart

Writer at Butt in Chair
This entry was posted in Consciousness, end-of-life, Humans, Poem, Time, Uncategorized and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Time Piece

  1. Melissa Shaw-Smith says:

    Well said! Very nice.

  2. My eyes are crossing. Glad I stayed awake to read.

    • narble says:

      I moved an old clock that had been sitting on a shelf in my office. It started to run and has been running ever since. The chimes are all off, it signals in code (5 AM it rings eleven times) but still…it did get me thinking.

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