The clocks melt

and merge into 

the fantasy they

always were, 

ever loyal troops

in the regiment

of the ultimate ruse,

the construct concocted

to render order

so that man 

feels enough before

the chaos and the luck, 

in a cosmos

that cares not 

for our fragile, fervidly

adhered-to plans,

but allows us 

to tame our confusion

with the illusion

of reason and rhyme, 

a comforting chime

to signal we've

succeeded once again

in keeping Time...