Notes About The Poem

Exploring the dramatic tension between mechanical, linear time and the subjective, emotional weight of lived experience.

Weight of an Hour

There’s a quiet heart upon the wall 
that breaks the day in equal parts, 
blind to the heavy tears that fall, 
and careless of our weary hearts. 

It treats a life like one quick breath, 
counting the hours, cold and gray— 
a gear that grinds away our breath, 
where every second slips away. 

And yet... time bends when passion burns, 
and minutes stretch to touch the sky; 
a single look, where longing turns, 
can make a decade pass us by. 

For all those weeks spent on routine 
fade out like smoke in morning air, 
while depth reclaims what life can mean, 
and stays with us when we are there. 

A clock measures duration, but depth counts time.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2026

Poem

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