Clockwork

        Time, they say, may not exist.
        Time, it's a simple illusion.
        Time, you say, is in our heads;
        Time, just an intricate delusion.

  But now, you say, is not
  The time.
  The time is not now,
  indeed.
  For if time does not exist,
  Then will it ever be time for me?

                              Does the moon wax and wane
                              Do the tides rise and fall
                              Does it happen as time carries on?
                              Or do we just put a limit
                              On the cycles of the earth;
                              Does time even exist at all?

         It's starting to feel
         like what was once said
         was far too good to be true.
         It's starting to feel
         like the hands on my clock
         are spinning a bit askew.

                      All I know,
                      all that I can be sure of
                      is that the moon will rise at night.
                      I can count on the stars
                      the planets
                      my scars
                      to remind me to take my flight.

My flight from reality,
far away from the pain,
and away from the joy of it, too.
My flight from my body,
far away from the sane
and away from my limited view.

                                 Time, they say, may not exist.
                                 Time, it's a simple illusion.
                                 Time, you say, is in our heads;
                                 Time, just an intricate delusion.

 But now, you say, is not
 The time.
 The time is not now,
  indeed.
 For if time does not exist,
 Then will it ever be time for me?