timeless

the sound of clocks ticking

reminds me of hollow bones

clicking together–

the echoes of a final

sentence,

a predetermined end

in seconds, minutes, hours.

 

i don’t believe that

the burning of hills

as the sun sets

should make our hands

unclasp;

“until tomorrow”

is in a language

i don’t want to understand

 

because i want today

to stretch across these landscapes

like a never-ending storm

 

because our happiness

should not be limited

by a schedule

by 60 ticks

by 12 cuckoo’s chimes

or by anything else man has made

to bind us.