The aging man
Wipes his face
With clock hands
Another hour
Drips from his face

Every second ticks
And tocks minutes
While the sun and the moon
Revolve space

Each year he withers
And wrinkles form quicker
With every week that collects days

This aging man
Born into skin
Isn't really as old as he is

For when he dies
He'll open his eyes
To the kingdom his God
Promised him