a clockwork life

time's returned to itself.

we've left that spiral of wanting
and not wanting
tomorrow to come.

we've left it somewhere, the eternity of the wait, standing
- pins and needles across body and soul -,
not knowing whether that tomorrow would come
or if we were living it already.

forever.





now there is only the confused memory of that dead time
that shadows our life and remembrances.

as if everything was just a bad dream
- so indescribably bad... -
that seems to have been and passed.



..




yes, that time has (now) passed...

we know it.

as much as never.


























and it's returned to itself...

time
has returned
to itself.




gently, secretly,
ashamed of returning without you.

























.












(first image: close-up clockwork, by konstantin inozemtsev.
second image taken from www.kenora.net/watches/)