Tick
Toc
Tick
Toc
The time ticks
it tocs
We tick with the constant motion
We talk of better ways.
Ticking gently pushes eyes "forward" to an ever narrowing field of view,
the stalking openness prevents the freedom to feel obliged.
As the hands of the day tick faster with the sun climbing over the sky ever onward to the west where mountains lie
the feet drag with thick stocks growing to reach the heavens with open leaves glowing bright.
The tick is right, only doubtful in a dream.
The toc is left to fend for itself.
The tick is first and always last.
The toc is last before the mind.
The time ticks on
it tocs of truth.
Tick
toc
Tick
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