The Frozen Clock

The ticking of the minute hand
silent,hardly noticed
Yet,
Every inching,
to complete the cycle,
A gong
In my mind,
Repeating,Deafening
How time flees,
From Man's grasp
Slipping through,
Elixer,
Ichor,
Much needed,
forever depleted
What should I do?
How should i stop it?
Like collecting the drip of a leaf,
Using nothing
But a broken seive.
Throw it away?
Allow Thought to consume it?
Like Wildfire
Upon a baked savannah?
For shame!
That is the coward's path!
Revel in it,
Become one
make it yours
For You are time,
And time is you.

-Me

I wrote this during the exams, on a macdonalds serviet.Is that how you spell it? Serveit? Whatever.Angst.