Anti-Clock

The anti-clock begins its turn,
when time no longer feels pure,
when moments move with frantic speed,
that meaning can't endure.

It winds its way through memory,
not seeking to return,
but searching for the fractured point
where bridges started to burn.

We forge it because endings come,
without a bell or chime,
Since closure wears the dull disguise of, simple passing time.

But the anti-clock is built to fail,
since It cannot make the years bend;
It only proves the very truth,
we struggle to defend.

Time never moved in loops or lines,
It only travelled on,
until the heart asks of the light:
when has the 'now' all gone?

- Suryanshu