Behan the Scene
Beyond The Watch
It’s new, but feels like it endured as much
As threadbare. Hardly any scratches on it’s face
Fresh in it’s presence
It has a glare like the rising sun
With it’s furious rays of fire
Bright enough to illuminate your soul
Sole purpose.
The nails of it’s hands so sharp it wounds
I look at it with mixed emotions.
It rusts as much as milliseconds.
Aging like an ancient pioneer
Born since the beginning.
Such a universal accessory.
That beholds the knowing of the unknown.
Endless ticking in which it’s role is designed to
Pace itself with a constant rhythm until its batteries die.
Knit with wires and plastic
It comes in diamond, gold, silver and bronze, but this one is just plain.
So edgy and opaque with a scent of death as
Glimpses of the past, present, and future are all in one
Reflection of people’s legacies.
I’ve realized it’s significance.
Unfortunately, it’s made me bask in fear.
A language of only numbers forcing me
To count my blessings, as it grips my wrist.
Oh, such a bittersweet taste
But, behind the glass is the audacity
of a human
It watches our every move
and you’d do the same
This watch on my wrist is merciless of it’s potential.