The Impossible Clockwork Heart

Clockwork heart, Machine made for life, Fragile being born of love.

Gears and cogs ticking away the tentative time we have.

Humanity is the perfect clock, making the time we posses more important than any other obsession.

Forward motion, Ever grinding when poorly maintained, Pertaining to wear, needed care something we refrain.

The little things we miss when miraculously blessed.

A brush of hair from her face. A kiss to her head and heartfelt goodbyes.

No time to stop when the strain is too much, we creak and moan, grating and screeching gears, fear being alone.

An amazing creation filled with emotion and hope.

A simple observation for such an intricate fabrication.

A clock is made to tell the time.

Such fantastic perfection on the outside, but if opened wide, the insides express a more complete reflection.

A clock’s inner workings mirror the fragile human complexion. Though outer beauty is viewed gracefully, it’s our inner bits that matter more.

The driving force of a world which at it’s core, is desperately hanging onto older ways, frightened of the new.

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~ by The Fayte Poet on 03/20/2013.

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