I am falling through the world
An echo of light from the distant past.
Searching for a tomorrow which may never come,
And hoping for a future which I am destined to lose.

Clock at one.

Speaking from the hiss of a radio detuned,
I talk, am heard, but not acknowledged.
Shaken by the chaotic, stirred into the ether.
I am a twitch in a transistor, held in a quivering state.

Clock at two.

Shout for me lightning as I start your spark.
Speak for me mutation as I change the beast.
I am the ragged wanderer between the stars.
Ghost of a billion yesterdays wrapped in a tangled thread.

Clock at three.

The child is born and I pour through her.
As I pour through all mortals, a cup of nothing.
I vex the precise and bring agony to the chip.
I am a curling trail of bubbles in an alcohol box.

Clock at four.

The physicist is confused by my complexities.
The mathematician is offended by my simplicities.
The fool forgets me and is happier for it.
While the wise man races me to divine conclusions.

Clock at five.

A boy becomes a man and grows old.
My age is stretched by the speed of genesis.
The flip of a coin and the toss of a die,
Summon Higgs to answer for his crimes.

Clock at six.

There is a violin strung in my heart.
It plays a tune as old as time itself.
A melancholy dirge of a builder’s sorrow,
Of origins unmade by disasters of choice.

Clock at seven.

Some say I come from the center.
But I have never known a center.
Others say I am from the dying core,
I cannot recall that past to make a future.

Clock at eight.

I am you and you are me.
I shimmer within, too deep to swim,
In your bones and your flesh,
freed when the sun grows old and senile.

Clock at nine.

For all of man’s vaunted wisdom.
I am an enigma, a contradiction, a mental scourge.
I breach the common sense of the classical,
I grow the huckster’s existential jumbo mumbo.

Clock at ten.

I awaken the truth and quench the lie,
While hiding both in facts unmeasured.
When you ask for both and insist,
I flit away on a lark of interference.

Clock at eleven.

Wake me at the end of the universe,
And ask me if I ever had any fun.
I will recall the dances within your soul,
And forget the offenses of your collider.

Clock at twelve.

I am falling through the void
An echo of light from the distant past.
Hoping for a tomorrow which has a chance,
And searching for a person who will find me.