Hands of a Clock

Struggling to find yourself in the hands

of unforgiving time.

                 Trying to find reason

                                   when there is no reason or rhyme.

Staring behind walls of g r a n i t e ,
Staring behind walls of e m b e r s ,

                               running away January,
                                         all the way to December.

Hands in Hands in Hands they link...
Dripping remnants of melting ink.

                                                        Chasing time until it stops,
                                            Such is life in between the hands of a clock.