23. Bell Tower

The people here have no sense

Of time, only the seasons, the days,

And so they look to the bell tower,

More precise than the sun’s fickle rays


But though this takes away

Their reliance on cloudless days,

It makes them depend on others,

More human than the sun’s distant rays


So the sundial is hidden somewhere

In the garden of my past,

And I listen now for the tolling

Of bells that account for time passed


And, I know, there’s someone up there

Ringing the great bronze domes,

But I also know, that someone

May have a mind that wanders and roams


So why do I trust

That the bells are right?

I have nothing else;

Here, it’s all black and white,

And I can't trust the day,

And I can't trust the night

The End

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