A Tuesday maybe, if I recall, hearing the news
Bellow like a brass trumpet, commanding attention.
I suppose a slip, of a sort,
Was what brought a stop
to all the watch and wonder,
As the seconds slowed to no ticks at all,
I reached in a lethargic motion of decree
To verify the absence of time.
Then it speed up only to slow down
Wildly out of control and contact.
Things quickly crashed or slowly failed
As they slipped into an untimely death.
Time went mad then, whenever that was,
And its victims did the same.
So many jumped only to have to jump again,
A landing eased by the distorted gravitational conviction.
Some shot themselves
only to watch their fingers
Preceding ever closer to a sluggishly painful demise.
The world spun in uneven intervals,
Leaving the moon racing at a leisurely velocity,
Trying to keep up with such an imprecise pace.
The sun came and went as the days weren’t even days
Then it slowed down and decided to stay.
By the end of the ‘day’ I had grown to be old
While my friends, everyone who was anyone to me
Varied in age, some even reversed in the cycle of life
Time’s oblong dimensions forcing them to another childhood,
Brought so unnaturally upon them.
But then, as we all gave up hope for a future, or a possible past
That existed without the comfort of clocks,
Someone, off beyond the cosmos, awoke
And found time a fiasco, missing entirely,
With the ebb of existence all but erased.
That someone, at that exact moment,
Decided never to nap on the job again.
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Submission Name: High in the Clocktower
