When Hands Travel - redux

When hands travel,
Does the clock wonder
As it watches us watch it moving?

It sees us gaze at numbers like forgotten memories in orbit,
Like lonely sentinels guarding the bridges of life's journey.

When hands travel,
We watch the precise start and stop of moving forward.
We ask ourselves of distance and time.
Yet, of what real importance is this,
When science proffers existence is endless?

When hands travel
We watch with glances in our youth,
With apprehension as we age,
With resolve or resentment when we are old.

But always...

When hands travel,
Such man-made measurements of time
Leave us either enveloped in trepidation,
Or anxiously awaiting our next sequence of existence.
All while we watch… mesmerized.