I am a wind-up clock,
A multitude of wind-up clocks,
All winding down.
In younger years
I sprang into life each new day,
Wound tight by youth and enthusiasm.
Now, I cannot wind my clocks as tightly as before,
And some have stopped and will not be restarted,
Worn out beyond repair.
Now, the momentum of time increases.
Hours and days and years are speeding up
As my clocks run slow, slow, slower.
It is an odd equation.
I am a wind-up clock,
A multitude of wind-up clocks,
All winding down
As I fall fast, fast, faster
Toward that place,
That inevitable, timeless place.
~ Russ Allison Loar
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