I strolled into a clock shop's space,
Where ticking hands set quite the pace.
Each clock displayed a different time,
Their chimes and ticks a varied rhyme.
One proclaimed, "It's nearly eight!"
Another said, "You're running late!"
A third chimed in, "It's ten o'clock,
Why are folks still in their socks?"
"Midnight now," a fourth one said,
"Yet no one stirs, all still in bed."
Confused, I watched their hands debate,
Each confident, none seemed to wait.
Amidst the noise, a silent face,
An old clock stood with humble grace.
Dust-covered, aged, and set apart,
Yet something stirred within my heart.
It whispered, "I am Truth, the Way,
Consistent through both night and day.
These others tick with fleeting might,
But I remain, the constant light.
They claim to know, yet miss the mark,
Their hands just spinning in the dark.
Twice a day, they might be true,
But I am steadfast, through and through.
My time is near, the end is nigh,
When truth will shine, and falsehoods die.
For those who walk the path I tread,
Eternal light lies just ahead."
Awakened from this vivid dream,
I pondered what these visions mean.
A call to share, to spread the word,
To live the truths that I had heard.
A chosen soul, a voice to raise,
To guide the lost through life's maze.
From shadows into radiant light,
To stand for truth, to do what's right.
So if you hear this humble rhyme,
Reflect upon the sands of time.
Embrace the path, let go of strife,
And find in Him eternal life.
Initial Post: Time | © 12th February 2001 by 'Bayor Martins
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