I’m looking for the clockmaker…

I’m looking for the clockmaker…
The person that makes us rush about…
I’m looking up, down and across the air…
Through the clouds of sun caught dust…
Into oneness and melody.

Maybe he lives in the east…
The place of the mellowed, sweet and kind…
I seem to be wandering further and further from the “definite…”
The difference between domestic and the wild.

Wow, I’m somewhere else…
Visibility zero…
Somewhere between air and air…
Into a place of perfect unison.

I see that there is no clockmaker…
That is a law written by our own hands…
Written because our sails and rudders are broken…
Hours, minutes, schedules are needed to give us direction.

I am blessed, I can’t tell time…
My clock is in my head and has four alarms…
Food, nap, play and walk…
It’s all the time I need to know.

I love you,

Annie