The tick of the grandfather clock is absent.
No clicking, no sirens alerting those nearby, nothing.
Time has stopped, life ceases to continue.

Liar! The message the clock portrays is deceiving.
Irregular patterns, broken numbers, nothing fits.
No trust to put in the trustworthy.

The river use to flow rapidly; the sign of life.
Its nourishing source healing those who drank from it,
But every river has an end.

If it could be fixed, the world would return order.
Things would make sense, the truth would be revealed.
The light would shine, things would flow smoothly, and there would be no jagged beats.

The clock needs guidance, something to show him the way.
He needs to be reminded of his great vigor within.
The clock has the ability to bring peace; the ability for time to flow.

With a little tweaking of the arrows; they can point in the right direction.
Some fixing of the outer furnishes to reveal its beauty.
Few nicks and nacks in the gears; then the clock may work again.

Through some adjustments, time suddenly starts to surge.
The river breaks down the dam, rushing into the village; bringing life to all.
All order is restored, harmony brought back, and the truth is revealed.

Then the sound can be heard, the sound of the grandfather’s tick.