Standing at the edge of reason,
nothing but dark emptiness beyond,
the clock ticks nervously on,
for one last change of season,
for universe to reveal treason.
Ambition flickers hesitant and dim,
Logic twists frustratedly within.
Long since hope had shone a lamp,
now Misery lingers cold and damp.
Silence and then new frustration
cries lost in the hopeless void
shattered clock now overjoyed,
no hurry nor a perturbation,
cynically waits for second creation.
