One day, there were clocks The clocks ticked I was born The clocks tick Every so often, I look at a clock, and it is still ticking Throughout my life I will look at many clocks, And it is likely that a large majority will be in working order One day, I will die The clocks will still be ticking when I am dust An inconceivable quantity of human generations Will be born to toil and suffer and die (and have already) Under the heat of the Sun and the eye of Time- this is the fate Of all human beings Yet one day, one day I never will know when The Last Clock (will they still call them clocks anymore?) Will cease to function. The final human will already be long gone After all, aren't we machines with internal clocks too? The whirring machinations of industrialists past and future Have all quietly gone off to sleep. All of this I know is practically certain, But what makes it ironic is that I'm unsure if you Would ever give me the time of day again.