... in Poetry

constant ticking

a perpetual reminder

of time lost

darkness 

followed by light

in a never ending loop

inhaling 

and exhaling

the same recycled air

earn years 

but don’t grow from

infinite repetition

may the cycle end

the ticking subside 

let an old body perish

might a new being

emerge

from the ash and sludge

let it wander

and explore 

among a fresh world

where ticking is novel

light is a gift

and air is refreshing

let the free soul

having evolved

live beyond flesh