Passage of Time (Original Poem)

No one knows how the passage of time,
bends perceptions to its willing chime.

Paraded as clocks to sing the rhymes
of a ticking tack to pass the times.

Alarms in unison to wake the laden,
in the early hours when heavy eyes burden.

Seconds to minutes as hours merge,
hours to days as weeks converge.

Weeks to months as seasons rotate,
a revolving circle, an annual fete.

Compartmentalised time zones to complete the trick,
while natural rhythms continue to tick.

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