Time and the Divine

Andrew R. Duckworth

At the end of the clock
Is one that guided the hands,
Cared enough for each second
To give them.

As the river issues forth,
That hand controls the current
While we dance about the waters,
Carefully and carelessly.

But that hand never forced a hand,
Only placed the feet on the land,
Said it’s life, don’t live it bland,
As time slips in grains of sand.