You've got a thousand hands
but only one mind.
Correct the clock's time -
anticipation stings the chest
but you can't complete the rest.

Maybe this is futile.
Reptilian-claws scratch for an ounce of denial.

For the sun awakens
when you scream for relief -
it is the only thing that can be done
for the doleful meek.
And the moon hides it's shine
when searching for the divine.
The darkness was meant as a guide.

Slow down your single mind,
and use your thousand hands,
that are untied.