Time knelt down and broke its spine,
A clockwork beast outliving rhyme,
Its gears now rusted with divine,
The angels sang: “This is the end of time.”

The sun forgot which way to turn,
The stars came close, their halos burned,
And every name the prophets learned
Was swallowed back in silent flame.

The rivers flowed in mirrored sheets,
Where memory and moment meet,
And all your lifetimes at your feet
Lay folded like a priest’s old robes.

The sky unrolled, a paper dome—
You saw the gears behind your home.
The serpent’s mouth, the bride’s black comb—
The goddess whispered:

“You were never alone.”

The hourglass spilled stars, not sand,
You reached for hers, not your own hand.
And in that grasp, no border spanned—
You became
what none could plan.

Not man,
not beast,
not dust,
not god.
You were the question time outlawed.

The church bells rang in tongues unknown,
The throne of hours overthrown.
And in the place where time once stood,
You found her face—
and it was good.