The sound of time
is a quiet note
               vibrating
the lips held tight
      pressured to parting
but nothing comes out
except that rhythm
               unending.

It fades into the background
a distant pillar of smoke
stark against a cloudless sky
only noticed in sober moments
when the world can afford its ending,
and we, as observers
can reflect on that broken line;
the gap always growing.

That rhythm calling out
enveloping the horizon
to remind us
               everyday
                              will find itself setting.