Timepiece

Synapses fire to the edges of my soul, And lock, stock and barrel do cease to hold. Pinpoint accurate the hour that the moment senses, Ne’r better dealing the cards only to fold. How the chambers in the clock click-and- clack, And the hands cease to ship its shape and bend. For under the fire only some pieces lose most of their luster, But I know things seem to resolve In the end. For every hourglass’ sand can be overturned and reset, And every door can be closed only to be opened again in flow. Solid footprints made in the sand on the beach, washed away with a wave once a path for hundreds more steps yet to go. For if you think the wind bends in the brilliance of the light, And the path leads to the end of a rainbow, So when the silence festers to reach the sound, Even sights of the future fall too low. So stand up and bow your head in blessing, Because battles can get out of sorts real quick. But holding the freedom lines in place for friends and family, Will determine what fate in forever the edge of your blended soul should prick.