Clocks
All around me clocks run fast,
All around me shadows cast,
The beings of fate will keep me safe,
Till the clock brings me an empty grave.
Will I still hear the speech of clocks,
When I am pressed by pounds of sod,
My hair and nails still growing on,
Till even time steals them gone.
My grave will slowly wear away,
And succumb to time day after day,
The residue of dates and names,
Will crumble under the clock's gaze.
I'll hear the softened steps of men,
Whose souls have not yet reached the end,
I'll hear them as their whispers pass, Leading them down my same path.
Forever with a piece of time,
Ticking past my buried prime,
Even when my bones are dust,
The clock will age the rest of us.
Now the clocks are running slow,
The shadows darkened now are shown,
Reaching out to me from cloaks,
The hands of time pull me close,
The clock tells me it's time to go.
