Continuum
Burning the midnight oil while writing
this poem one line at a time
looking for reason searching for meaning
making words scan and having them rhyme
consider the hands of a clock
as around the dial they rotate
some arrive early
(tick-tock tick-tock)
others come in late
one is fast the other slow
round and round and round they go
observe this strange conundrum
it's a paradox in every paradigm
tho' traveling at two different speeds
they keep the self-same time
whereas a broken watch
(strange to say),
in its oxymoronic way
tho' its tempo is a no-go
is correct twice each day
and
as it's of the essence whenever I see fit
I simply turn back time
3... 2... 1... emit
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