A Moth On The Clock Poem by Mubeen Sadhika

Not to know the time
but to set it right
never been in the cycle before
still a game of chronology
helps to flourish the flight
always titillating without
any inference of the period
referring the space
out of nowhere and
beginning to play in the circle
numbers have no meaning
even the arms deviate the direction
hereditary angst fills the moment
to postpone the end
and start a fresh lesson
in ticking and moving forward
not forcing backwards
beyond the limits of
one more dimension