The clock is not ticking. The hour hand is severed from the mechanism, The minute hand suspended forever at three minutes Prior to whatever hour you’d like to supplement. The second hand shows signs of life Arrhythmically jerking to the right When no one is aware. The flow of the meter is dance-like, Compound time with no boundaries To measure beat. There is no year to speak of No influence of culture No place to hurry to Or reason to worry about Allowing your heart to keep The natural rhythm to measure your life. The clock has been broken For who-knows how long – There is no reason to fix it. Your time is measured in breaths, Your worth is found in the Lord. Not lost, nor slipping away, But rather finally alive.