the clock-men pushed the clock-hand
heading the passage of time
the clock-men needed no time for rest
for they were
the rest.

if they were
to rest
the clock would stop ticking on and on
and time would come to a stop
and the clock-men would no longer be
the ruler of everything in the end

the crafts-man tinkered
in his craft-hut with his
craft-tools

the clinking of copper against
cool, cold corrugated sheets
like cymbals

the towns-people took interest
in this crafts-man. they observed
his work.

"what are you making, crafts-man?"
asked the towns-folk, and the crafts-man
replied with silence.

the crafts-man was old, and he still
had unfinished work. so he burned on until
he collapsed

the crafts-man was dying, and still
had not created anything yet. the crafts-man
was a fool.

he did not chase his dreams when
they yearned for him. he did not reply when
they asked for him