Hands of Time

A brief history of time and its puppets aka Humans.

The croaking wall leaps ahead,

One click per unit joy;

The light envelops behind the doors

Opening into the morning red.

Hitherto concealed in broad daylight,

Marchin' to their master's beat,

The soldiers of fortune arise,

Once more to face defeat.

As the deafening silence sprouts,

The hands that once trembled

Find themselves steady as a stone

For the master wages the final bout.

Chaos dawns over and

Master Time bows to surrender,

We are the ones who fight

We are the hand.

Author's Note

My first poem here at writers cafe. Pardon the jumpy dialogues and narration.