In time it’s the clock
Or the pencil’s written song
Or a moments recognition about where we belong
At times it’s the lock on the prisoners door
Or Jacob who left and returned home to more
From time we charge, towards time we run
The rising,the setting of the moon and sun
Yet in it we are, a beginning and an end
So where do we start?
When it’s time to begin
Is it here?
Is it there?
Is it up?
Is it down?
Or simply the quietude when sitting down.