Chasing The Clock

Sitting here waiting while the clock face chases forward
my memories bewildered and twisted, with unborn thoughts…
Seeing things I’ve waited for all these years just go by as tear drops
now, like a paper book each page is turned, as my life is spanning out –

Walking through the concrete jungle within this metropolis of home
there is a foreboding question lingering before my eyes
Is there a life within life that is living?  Or is all this just a common metaphor?

Now I’m standing on the platform of the golden alter of sunrise
where people wonder if man is a god or a king?  Eyes closed but seeing all.
Their tempers are flamed with the union that has been found.
Sitting here waiting while the clock face chases backwards.  I’m afraid!

Afraid of what I might find when I open them again.

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