The clock around runs down and about Hands to its face as time runs out Its artificial reality Of time kept by machine to be Symbolic of our mortality The measure of our days Between us and always The cock of the walk of tyranny The clock tick-tocks insistently But my heart beats inconsistently And my head is full of wonder My soul full of lightning and thunder I am not a machine If you know what I mean I always wondered about it But lately I have come to doubt it And believe in time like seasons Not machines without rhymes but reasons Those cocky tick-tock martinets I know what time it is as well as how To tell it is when I am then is now No clocks and no regrets Time passes and forgets Steven Curtis Lance   Image: "The Persistence of Memory, Salvador Dali, 1931