Poem 345 – The Clock Gallery at the British Museum

And away from the little boxes, filled with passing time,
Their reminders of the Moment that is fleeting,
The eternity beyond these walls, this earth, this sun, the night time,
With a fraction of infinity in its stars and moonlit guise.
All this beyond my thinking, but the knowledge I must die,
Farewell, to all you cruel reminders that I am trapped by time.


Dear readers,

This is the final poem in the Tempus Fugit cycle. All of the quotes were taken from pocket watches at the British Museum, where there is a lovely gallery of clocks. However, it does have a slight tendency to make one feel overly mortal, which is a shame at times. I suspect the effect is enhanced by the number of watches and clocks belonging to those who were once great, and are now dead.

Kind regards,

The Hapless Neo-Romantic


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