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The Clock

Writer's picture: glenhaneyglenhaney

Locked in a clock without a key,

our days are metered in ways that betray

how little we know about when our ship plans to land.

We are committed to splitting the second,

So our allotted time sounds less ominous when expresses in billionth of a

second rather than the old

fashioned way.

Regardless of the clock, we bet our lives on a heart that doesn’t keep time.

It meters it out one stingy nanosecond at a time.




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