Galaxies, solar satellites, the very Earth and its plates.
Whatever matter spins the reality, each one rotates.
Every unique universe growing its own ebb and flow,
Same as an ocean shall pummel shores then pull undertow.
When is the time? Are you a counter of clockwork?

Backwater cementing a new variant of tributary,
Friends become fish in this river of machinery.
The roiling rubber current proves to combust with currency.
Success succumbs to numbers as the economist counts me.
When is the time? Are you a counter of clockwork?

Gingko trees employed rats until society's reaction
Assimilated this lineage and reset its traction.
A different dispersal mechanism does not merit lament,
The managed are mute within the worker's woeful testament.
When is the time? Are you a counter of clockwork?

Sometimes a quest of faith begets a set from a cartomancer,
What good would it do to bribe the tarot and fake her answer?
For doctrine to deprive a man of god's hero in himself,
To trial and tribute his death to ascend on our caste shelf.
When is the time? Are you a counter of clockwork?

Your cards at hand, as is any fact of fortune, are from you.
All around are landmarks to map your light, vibration, and hue.
A presence is an action amongst quintessential stage props,
Weathered roles rehearse their sonorous loves watching ripples drop.
When is the time? Are you a counter of clockwork?

Turbid fury has no footholds on the great movement in your mind,
Gears that we hear were once a pursuit to prosper as mankind.
To disarm the victim's rights and loosen all nooses may seem odd,
Yet Devil deviates design and is forgiven by God.
When is the time? Are you a counter of clockwork?

Cities yearn to scrape skies built on products at the world's splendor.
Though trinkets become trite as we glorify a greedy vendor.
How could one commend such a clear farce for the multitude?
Selling milk to children's bones while our livestock store false fortitude.
When is the time? Are you a counter of clockwork?

Lifespans expand within this ****** twilight of barbarism.
History obscures so we light turned pages with euphemism.
Often forgotten is that our memory is amorphous,
Generating our boldest fears and cheers to those beyond us.
When its the time? Are you a counter of clockwork?

Pessimism or optimism; are not rivals of ones structure
Secular submission denies despair's innate rupture
It is built by the hopeful to share love after given grace
To construct a profound unity above pride's titled race
When is the time? Are you a counter of clockwork?

We are taught to worry for unruly folk until weary.
Doctors like leaders treat symptoms not seeing sickness clearly.
They stress the distressed to disseminate imminent spines,
Shattering that last vestige of a will searching between lines.
When is the time? Are you a counter of clockwork?

The commandments should have demanded there always be one more,
As truth evolves in jollies or follies, being rich or poor.
Always a witness to your lemons that could squeeze a profit.
Limits can be more than second hands surpassing the minute.
When is the time? Are you a counter of clockwork?

Thus old cogs and smog of our familiar faculties rest
On the zealous peals of those who know at the hour of our best.
It is not easy to lift volition past sadness so steep.
As each day would raise a mile, we may grow to smile when we sleep
Now is the time, are you a counter or clockwise?

“I am flickering starlight in the city of solitude.”
“We are vanishing sparkles of the cat-less city.”

“Seething in agony the great clockwork star writhes.”
“For once the light shone beyond cracks of doom.”

“I am vast cityscapes across ungodly dimension.”
“We are great a singularity midst the cat-less city.”

“The sky again flashes with red lightning.”
“May the light of great clockwork star be shone upon us.”

“I was once the gods of solitude, the great solidarity.”
“We were once the god of woven minds, unwinding our doom.”

“The great clockwork star chimes once more, the clock strikes another sign.”
“Cowering in fear art we who live to die.”

“I am the god of the great unknown seas, the inscrutable forests of old.”
“I am the god of their singing and natural beauty. ’Til they saw what was written upon the tablets.”

“Now, another ascends to death-hood. Under the chime of night.”
“There, another dies into the ascended plane. Beyond this great city of red.”

“I cannot die, for the clockwork star hast not yet declared it.”
“I cannot leave, for the clockwork sun hast yet judged me.”

The great old ones who now roam the empty city of gods. They cry to the great clockwork star that hangs above their heads.
In these they begin, then stop, then begin again. A casualty upon itself.
In these they spoke, and speak, and spoke again. A question unto itself.
As such they acted, and act, and acted again. A paradox in of itself.
  
“And the great clockwork star chimes once more.”
“And another one of the headless children of man ascend to death-hood.”

“I was once the flickering knowledge that pass by men’s mind.”
“We were once the alluring curiosities that enthralled men’s heads.”

‘Til the hour struck Twelve.

And so the great clockwork sun rise, and fall, and rise once more.
And so the great star chimes the bell of relieving death.
And so the grand all-father greets us once more.
These are the word of Vulnos, the maker of constructs.
Blessed be thy ears.