An axis, anchored by Lethe's flow, Upon a field of numbered face… A circle made of seconds' glow, Time as a down payment's grace…
The counter of life goes click-clack, With hour-hand's composition laying Soul-antagonies on its track, Days into years, interlaying…
Years into decades flowing, Cycles and seasons into eternity… Dismissing the haste of centuries showing, Irreversible eternity…
Life finds its meaning true In the pulse of heartbeat's measure, Substantive numbers through The essence of generation's treasure…
Thoughts wander boldly, seeking ways Through systems of the vast expanse, They're cramped, you see, in their days— Too few universes for their dance…
Lethe spins smoothly on, Doors of "Why?" stand open wide, The key to "Answers"—it is drawn— In "Prayers" it shall hide…
Yet to man it comes for naught, Living life in common fashion, To think that things are thus wrought, Simpler, freer, habitual passion…
An axis, anchored by Lethe's flow, Into the plane of end and start, Darkness parallel to Light's glow, Clock-hands toward the final part…
