Clockwork

There is glass between our touch,phantom limbs of former love...and the truth is that I am so terrifiedThat the callous is deeperthan the surface of our skin.And it takes us twice as long,it takes us twice as long to heal.We'll lift up the ground to seethe system of roots beneath.Gears turn, endlessly,to bring the world back to lifelike clockwork, when it dies.The cadence of beating hearts,the click of its moving partsgrows louder and louderfrom this restless earth...Future gardens wait patiently belowand somehow we smell them blossomthrough the snow.Still unsatisfied,we chase what we're denied.As generations wait,we can't resist the taste of possibility.Gears turn, endlessly,to bring us back to life again.Like clockwork, we begin.