The clock on the wall bears a ravenous grin,
Devouring blueprints as hours decay.
I chase after minutes that never begin,
While yesterday’s certainties quietly fray.

I built a cathedral of “someday” and “soon,”
Its spires of hope now crumbling with rust.
I watched as the morning surrendered to noon,
While faith in tomorrow dissolved into dust.

The sun makes its rounds, so patient and sly,
It circles my efforts, then slips out of sight.
I run just to witness the years passing by,
A spectacle mocked by the gathering night.

I scribble my future on half-finished lists,
The ink running dry before wishes take hold.
Each moment I grasp seems to curl into mist,
A footnote consigned to the ruin of mold.

The laughter of youth echoes faint in the hall,
While wisdom arrives with a sigh and a yawn.
I measure my life by the silence that falls,
Not the anthems of hope that greeted each dawn.

Now home calls me back with an ache of desire,
A chair by the hearth, where old pleasures dwell.
But beyond the gate, the iron bell’s hollow knell
Reminds me that endings are all we acquire.

So here’s to the hours we fritter and waste,
To the race with the sun, to the last breath we chase.
The joke is on us, in our desperate haste—
Time smirks at the finish, unmoved by the race.

When the final tick falters and the darkness has grown,
I’ll search for lost time in regret’s thin disguise.
For all that I missed in the rush to atone
Was waiting at home, in the warmth of goodbyes.