The clock ticks the moment away
Each passing second dropping by
Like an unwanted guest who far overstayed a welcome
Like water dripping out of a faucet
Splashing on the white ceramic sink
Spreading out and collecting In a pool of nothing tangible

Time is an illusion
Seen, but not heard
Not touched, not felt
A trick of the mind only
The difference between days and years
Is muddled and unclear
What does midnight mean?
What does birthday mean?
How can someone keep track of something
That has nothing to be counted?
Seconds are invisible
Minutes, indefinable
Hours, indescribable
Days, never there
Weeks, imagination
Years, pure invention
The human description
Of a planet's revolution

So, you groan at getting older
And smile at living longer
Though no one does neither
If time doesn't matter
Each unit is a hazy illustration
To torment the soul,
To give tribute to Death itself,
And to give the clock something to do