Imagine,
If you will,
The inner workings,
Of a watch.

All the tiny gears,
Gently colliding,
Slowly sliding,
Like lovers locked in dance.

All different sizes,
Shaped in their own way,
But all equally as important,
To keep constant flow.

Turning and turning,
The little ones go,
Turning the larger,
But the larger turns slow.

Their size and their speed,
Mean nothing to them,
In their own little circle,
They forever go.

They maintain their rhythm,
Their sense of immortal flow,
Then and only then,
Will the bigger things ever go.