whirring and chiming

How do clocks die?

When their man-made hearts choke and burn,

Is there a lead-up?

Any symptoms,

A life of time gone by,

Flashing behind its mechanical eyes?

Do the hands find themselves slowing,

The effort of keeping up, too much?

Is it hard enough to keep going,

But harder still to stop?

Resting was an unsung crime

The thing a nuisance would do.

Attention is not needed, but welcomed,

Unless it comes after your cue

To leave your duties and thoughts behind

The rhythm of your echoes now dark and dry.

Shocked at how unprepared and unusual it feels

To find the courage and time

To let yourself finally, finally fly.

~