Heavens clocked, a poem by Conor Ryan

Lit orbs hang from the sky
Wondering if they float or fly
Wandering, as time passes by
Cycles, measuring passing day

Marking time, roaming
Returning, departing
Watched, witnessing

Whilst they radiate light –
Seen best long nights
Spinning through space

Though we know, we ignore
The celestial bodies keeping score
Marking the hours, days, years away
On orbit homing
Occupying the sky
Each night passing by

While not bereft,
How long do we have left?

Sides dark and light
Flying through the sky
Marking the night
Cycles, time passing by

Lit by the sun
Rotating the earth
and shaving its face

Cycles evermore
Whence darkness is from
Shadows by the hearth

We see the moon
Rising and falling
Bringing the crest of the tide
from surface so still…
A drop, a ripple becomes a wave
Scratching the surface
Overlapping seashore

So soon
Turning and calling
What promise provides
Adventure, free will
Feeling the farce
Caught up in a race…
Moving evermore

The days passed by,
Turned the page.
Fires ember fades away –
to sooty smoke which flies.
Matter doth change.
Up in the flames
Which race and rush
Left charred remains
Falling to burnt dust
Particles rearranged
Changing state
Matter erased

Where does the wind go after it blows?
Where do the streams of time flow?
Fall and rise with the ebb of the tide –
Bourne witness by unseen eyes.


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