When Twelve hits One

When twelve hits one,
all the glory of time,
must come to an end.

Feelings don't spur into action,
and impulses become just another thought.

I talk truth, because when that arm hits twelve,
the art of heightening feelings
reaches brick walls, and white ceilings.

Here's a suggestion.

If time is such an attraction,
I say why don't you fly to the sky,
and be with the moon.

Stay fickle and delude yourself,
from the truth that lies before your eyes.

Because when after all is said and done,
that arrow will strike one.
(and its not the clock I speak of)