The Ticking Clock
K
Kenneth Maswabi
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There is no silence in a minute
The ticking clock labors day and night
With the crude weight of time
Wrapped on its shoulders
The burden of the past
Strapped to its chest
In agony, time is consumed
Baptized by the ticking clock
As it opens the future
With its massive arms
The ticking clock is a slave of time
A messenger from the past
And an angel of the future
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