Night is the tock in the tick tock.
The morning is the tick.
The night is the tock—
tick to tock to tick—
like a metronome.
Every day.
An echo.
Tock.
Tick.
Light is the tick.
Dark is the tock.
After each tock—
the tick.
Light.
Dark.
Awake.
Asleep.
Each moment, a rhythm—
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Tock.
Time.
It never ends.
We end.
Memory ends.
But time—
it keeps marching on.
The tick of the tock.
And the night comes.
Taking us—
to the beyond.
As the earth spins.
On its axis.
The tock.
Of the tick.
Photo credit: Cesar Żemis
