Times call

Nothing calls me from this depression but the rattle, stamp of an old clocks battery forced hands counting out darkness routine reign.
No voice of reason spreading from broadcast towers in electric closets at this late hour.
Not the trembling restless wind battering leaves on trees ready for flight .
Simply at this time, time is my only call.
Her cadence mechanically true though faltering in her call.
Each stammering arm, claps on each minute marked as passing sanity claims the seconds.
Still none call for me sitting silent under a man made tree.
Branches weighted between rocks and plaster cannot times hands make go any faster.
Here in her darkness counting out life’s hopes, time hammers each second till understanding we can cope…
Yet, still only time calls for me from this depth of despair alone sitting in my chair.
Who now calls into self made night with a lilting voice of light?
Return me to times fight.
Clack, clack, swoosh, times arms wave away another despair, as we together arise and share.
Time, dared to share cannot by any means be counted from our lives.
Time my friend again, count with me the happiness for those who stayed, prayed and played.
Click, clack rattle me back… Time a friend we all win…

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