When time’s cracked face will tick for us no more
At the exhaustion of our powers’ sources;
When deadline, duty, death, have ceased before
Our stolen eyes that once lit up our courses;
What new religion could replace this void,
We soulless populous of entities,
Mined out of our own our own minds, all but destroyed,
To zero down action’s infinities?
Where are you gods! Why’ve you abandoned us?
How is it that this statue’s godlike face
Feels, at my trembling touch, as cold as ice?
The more withdrawn the more these gods I chase!
Yet edging at my faithless leap awe springs,
Ascending, my descendent queens and kings.

Time never shows his face ’til time is wasted,
Heaving from breath to breath; burnt up its air
That once inspired the life it never tasted,
Only to find meaning in our lost despair.
What cunning trick has time performed for me,
To fuel my need for greatness, poke my ambitions,
Shun love for labours, speak pretentiously,
And guild my sorry-self for a glowing reputation?
I’m at the mercy of his pendulum.
Time’s swing did catch me in his hypnotic charm,
Mislead me with a coin of gold to dance for him,
As, tick-by-tock, my neck fitted his arm.

All this he conjures though he’s not to blame.
I am to blame; my folly fits my name.