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I am nothing if not time’s servant
I hear his voice
Whisper just out of reach
Urging hurry, hurry
Lest I lose
A precious second to indolence or
Mere pleasure
Tick tock
Says the clock
Above my head
Filling me with hope and fire and dread
Driving me on, and on

What am I racing to or for I may yet ask
Feeling quite unequal to the task
But he does not answer, Mr Time
He urges on and it’s as though
I am but victim to an undertow
Without a reason or a rhyme
It’s only time
Driving me on, and on

One day the clock may weaken, may yet slow
As I grow old perhaps
The demands may lessen or withdraw
And would I miss the pressing need
Or find in silence not solace
Only a feeling as life bleeds out
Step by step and all I’ve raced
Is gone with age, is but erased
And someone’s footfall just behind
Chases the ghost
I have become
As time’s new servant
Driving me on, and on

(c) Helen Valentina 200