In the temples of the discrete, anonymous, hidden in the brume of time, ticks the clock of life.
No matter how aloof, the time-keepers, the life-keepers, bear the emblem of the throb of humanity.
Some misshapen by the burden of a life-time, use chantage on the keepers, on others, on themselves.
But, it buys no tick on the clock, no extra second, no reprieve.
Written for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Wordle 39.
A mix of script and freefall – some words lay where they fell from my subconscious creative mind. While this isn’t a message from there, I have been getting some of those lately.