TICK TOCK

~~TICK TOCK
The clock ticks, ticks, ticks.
Tick by tick the future becomes the present.
The present becomes the past.
The gnarled hands of the clock strike 80.
They look weary. 
“Do you know 80?”  they ask.
 “I haven’t walked here before; I’m  just getting started.” I say.
The gnarled hands say, “We have seen much and yet not all, however, this we know.”
“At 80 time is gathered into meaningful parts.
The early part. The middle part.  The later part.
We do not say end part.  Nor do we say final part. 
No one knows that part.  That is a mystery.
Empty time and space lie before you in this later part.
It is empty and it  echoes, but it is new.” They say.
I want to fill the time and space but not too fast.
The space is filling even as I speak.
Must I hurry?   I have hurried for so long.
“Slow down.” I say to the mirror.
The gnarled hands and the clock just smile. 
The clock ticks, ticks, ticks. 
                                                                                           Marvin Knittel 2013