Human Timeline

A poem from the dark abyss of my computer.

One o’clock,
Man learned to walk.
Two o’clock,
Man made tools from rock.
Three o’clock,
Man grew some plants.
Four o’clock,
Men learnt to chant.
Five o’clock,
Men lived in towns.
Six o’clock,
Men dealt with pounds.
Seven o’clock,
Men sailed the oceans.
Eight o’clock,
He made blasting potions.
Nine o’clock,
Came the Age of Steam.
Ten o’clock,
Life seemed like a dream.
Eleven o’clock,
Atoms were the game.
Twelve o’clock,
It never came.

Please pardon the unpolished state of this pseudo-poetry.

A short excerpt

A short excerpt of a poem I wrote.

The Clock
Stoic face indifferent to the silent still air
Skeletal hands jerking sluggishly to a ticking beat
Hollow ticks, somber reminders of the reaper's
Ominous deadline.

Time is formless, indefinite, yet it is strangely familiar. We often use tools, analogies to understand time, but this only masks the nature of time itself.

More on that in a later post. A deadline comes first.

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