The pendulum of time.

The polished glowing pendulum swings in and out of time
Always moving, never stopping, always looking for a rhyme
That holds convoluted meanings hidden in it’s deja-vu
Like the feeling we’ve been here before that touches all we do,
Hand stitched heaven painted moments that meander through our eyes
Sometimes lay dreams upon our shoulders that convey such a surprise,
When the tide of life is moving through the harbours of each day
There is always time to contemplate, and always time to Pray.


All those woven winding whispers that creep softly on the dawn
Bring their own sense of tomorrows that as yet have not been born,
They bear the sadness of lost yesterdays within their wistful calls
And feel a yearning for the future, yet before their evening falls
Into a final recognition that seems faded yet not gone
 They seek desperately for dust vague dreams to pin their hopes upon,
For all in all a whisper only tells you what you need to know
A soft sound track of what you lack, a backseat in life’s picture show.


Every soft sibilant shadow whisper echoes through the air
Some call in hope and some in joy, and some in dark despair,
While the pendulum’s beat quickens like a rapid metronome
Or the footsteps of a lover as she hurries on back home,
As whispers wind round whispers like a maypole of the moon
Wrapping gold upon the darkness as they softly sing in tune,
For time and rhyme are similar, for neither really age
They just wander in the moonlight as it writes upon their page…