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the timepiece

Gears and springs and ratchets;
Wheels and cogs and catches;
Set and wound, the mechanism spins.
Steadily keeping measure,
Counting temporal treasure
In every instant swept beneath its lens.

Perhaps it’s our awareness
Of some perceived unfairness,
Our lives a flash while earth and sky endure;
We mark each hour and minute
Of all life holds within it;
A vain attempt, each moment to secure.

While smiles a Higher Power,
Caring not for day nor hour,
Knowing well eternity awaits;
Unhurried, Heaven beckons
Where eons are but seconds
And tomorrow is forever at the gates.

From star to constellation,
Each orb assigned its station,
Set and wound, the mechanism spins;
And after its unwinding
How pleased we’ll be in finding
Our loves remain, where living never ends.

Remember, then, that whether
Our seasons spent together
Seem too few or all too soon have fled;
Just focus your attention
On that magnified dimension
Where nothing past compares with what’s ahead.

Picture of Wes Stephenson

Wes Stephenson

Author, motorcyclist, poet, and adventurer. Let's journey together.



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