Your time is carefully measured until it finally stops
Then future, past and present will be frozen hands on clocks
And in the black hole of Infinity, of what's left, you'll purge
As all those hidden ghosts in life, in death, will then emerge
With quelled chimes clocks are naught but pictures of what has passed
And beyond the perceptible you'll be close to alone at last
But those who never were will reinforce your silent weeping
And for your Infinity in your company keeping
You'll never, in forever, see them; but feel them and be amid
All the phantoms and spectres who have never breathed, or ever lived
But they'll need to feed, to be, on your final fading embers
Until your very essence is so depleted that no one else remembers
When the hourglass sands have run their course, you'll not deny
That what were the facts of the tangible will now not apply
In a forever place of perpetuity and endless penury
You'll repair yourself in a faded thought of a borrowed memory
Your time has come and gone, an evanescent flickering
And now doesn't exist in words, or thoughts, or subliminal whispering
All those who used to haunt you are the ghosts you kept
And Infinity's a place where they'll awake, for 'tis where they slept
⌛⏳⧖
