The Hands of Time, Pt. 2

He went back outside

Into the harsh light of day.

He constructed a new way to look at the world,

Which is why he wore wired rims

That that held corrective lenses,

But not ones that helped him see closer

Or farther away,

Rather, lenses that flipped the world upside-down,

And reflected the sun’s rays.

In his own desired ways.

The others with their sunglasses mocked his hindered vision

As he stumbled around at first,

But when his eyes adjusted

To the way he wanted to see,

His view of the world changed greatly-

The freedom of living

Is not the cost of toys.

And real sweet dreams

Outshine the black of closed lids.

The clock was not stealing me away,

But taking me to where I did not know

The destination was skewed

By the blinding truth

That the clock took me

To where I truly needed to go.

And with the help of my lenses

I can withstand the outdoors.

The others only try to dim it.

I can now clearly see

The clock counting up.

I do not fear the clocks hands pulling me in

Because I can now hold its hands

In happy anticipation.

I know now that lovers

Remain not for need, but for jubilation.

All of my questions

Have already been answered,

But all the answers are the same.

So next time I am confused

About who, what, when,

Where, why, and how,

I will always have one answer:

Love

He was now an adult.

 

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