The interminable silence.
Engraved upon a worn frame,
And etched into two hands,
Are forgotten whispers, that
Mark the minutes and hours…
Every monotonous tock,
Is an unspoken warning ––
Fogged up with memories of the future
And anticipation of the past.
Mankind, behind their sleepy ignorant lashes,
Forget that the world still bleeds and burns
Forget that their own cleverness will bring upon them their destruction
Forget that the only things holding their world together are shivering strands of hope…
The Grandfather clock,
Witnesses these two-legged monsters.
And silently absorbs their colorful history.
It does not speak its secrets,
It does not voice its fears.
The grandfather clock merely ticks,
Unnoticed and disregarded,
As the world perishes around its tattered edges.
How long can mankind carry on like this
Until the last shivering heartstrings
That holds their world together shatter,
And the weathered hand of the grandfather clock
And ticks no more?
Marianne Lu is from Beijing, China, but currently attends school in Massachusetts. Apart from reading and writing, she enjoys running and having philosophical conversations with her friends (or anyone, really).
–Art by Marina Ćorić