Forward
Two hands and one face
are all that are necessary to bind me.
The metal appendages wrap around my arms
and my neck
like a noose.
It dictates
Everything.
The steady rising and setting sun,
constant creation and destruction,
the cycle of life turning with it
every hour.
Why only 24 in a day?
Perhaps 30 would
allow me to finish creating my concerto,
or write my research paper,
or study just a little longer,
or get a healthy amount of sleep,
or spend time with friends and family,
or notice the graceful trill
of the bird who works unnoticed, intertwining twigs for its own Creation:
Home… Life…
But who gets rewarded for watching the birds?
Not me.
I just sit here listening
to the second hand monotonously tick
while I complete my next homework assignment.