His Own Time.

I used to wind up my old clock
But now I know…
Time passes anyway…
It needs no help from me.

The sun will rise…
The Moon will wane
The stars will out and in
The tick tock of my ancient clock.
Has never governed them.

And as I gaze…I see…
That mystery is everywhere.
Beyond… and in my small domain,
And also within me.

The clock is tall…and handsome still.
The craftsmanship is very fine.
In silence we communicate.
Without the chimes of measured Time.

Kristine Byrne 6am 27th Feb  2021
Illustration. Caran D’Ache pencil and pastels.