The One-Handed Clock
Tick and Tock
The hands go ‘round,
But they do not count the minutes.
They count the
Footprints left behind-
T'would seem to show our limits.
But a second look
Would shine anew
Something far outstanding.
For those steps
Can lay upon
ANY ground, grass, or landing.
Some live so big,
With eyes ahead
To only suffocate in fear.
But what’s beyond
Those walls erected
Can far transcend what’s near.
So dream large,
And share with the world,
What it is that makes you fly.
And remember that those
Who came before,
Left their prints upon the sky.
For no box can hold,
A heart so bold,
Such as yours made of thunder and lightning.