I lie and listen

To the sounds of silence,

The clock ticking,

The crickets whistling.

In the darkness another day passes,

Yet, time does not fly.

The Sun will awaken and rise in the sky,

To journey through another day.

What will be gained?

For time passes away.

Quickly, yet slowly,

For there is no meaning

To the endless toil.

Go now!

This the message.

The shattering bell screams

From the clock.

As the moments are captured and lost;

Until the large hand creeps

Past the sentinel.

The hollow call falls

Around each empty square;

Bouncing back to the unaware.

What sounds I hear,

I have not stopped to wait

The babble die,

Now so unfamiliar.

1986 © Will George.