The Clock

Circa 2010

Like a silent movie

Mysterious, bold, antique

Planted into place solid

Where the food comes from

Passion is a passing thought

A wasting shield revealed

No all for not will be excepted

This shanty town existed

Hands move like we all do

Never stop, good or bad

Numbers, meaning and sense of self

Insecure strategies fail to pause

There is no outcry for salvation

Many wrongs and some damage done

The threshold of the searching

A light so dim

Recognition is a mental forge

Licking one’s wounds and moving on

Fought against so long 

Roadblocks and sideswipes

And the carrying on

Dissect the race

Understand the start and end

Control its pace

Take back your ending