The Finite Clock

Time scribes a fine edge, sketching the border of life;

Tracing the horizons and pitfall blemishes of your days;

Often failing to flesh-out the dreams that flow through the back-bays of your mind;


Grating barely perceptively through the vacant realms of indistinct desire;

Ceaselessly defining the slow seconds of futility;

Or the rapid, fluttering, beat of racing hooves on the packed sands of your soul.


Youth yearns for time to leap forward in quantum busts;

Maturity wistfully wishes for it to shuffle to a stop;

Old age alternately cries for it to slip backwards, or to skip to the end of days.


Endure the incessant nerve ticking that punctuates your soul;

Cherish the enriching challenge of each clanging second;

Revel in the joys you wrest from the finite clock of your life.

Copyright © 2012 - Marty Vandermolen -　All Rights Reserved