Long low bell
song I hear
far or near
I cannot tell
The chime rings true
in careful arcs
the quarter marks
to man are due
For nowhere lies a creature dear
who holds the fear of fleeting time
But trembling man
in soil and soot
wears hard soled boots
and weary hands
Such as mine
own restless limbs
that shake off sleep
in desperate time
So here I lay as minutes pass slow
ponder past transgressions made
In hopes that I
might repair
to what was there
before a mind

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