I take not inspiration from my Clock

What does your clock do sitting on your wrist,
Or what does the one on the wall;
The one over the tower of Big Ben,
Or another at Grandfather’, tall?

They tick and tock all hour long,
And never do they stop;
They show the hours gone by,
And welcome the coming ones, atop.

They tell us, life  never stops,
And ask us to comply;
No wonder how hard the consequences,
We can never stop and rest on the fly.

For when we stop, so do the others,
It alters the equilibrium;
To keep all running and minimize any losses,
We need to carry out the tedium.

Behold, thy command, I cannot comply,
For I do not comprehend;
I take not inspiration from my clock,
Its not disrespect, I intend.

Hey clock, you stroll, and roll and fly,
Forever at the same position;
Your environs change and so do your viewers,
Without your discretion.

You go forever, neither fast nor slow,
But at the rate you are destined;
Oh! That is not the rate time flies,
But only one standardized.

Streams flow, brooks splash, with rocks they clash,
and tumble about merrily;
Unstoppable, ’cause oh, they wish,
They are on their way continuously.

The descend the mountains at crashing speed,
And jump down as falls;
They sing a merry song in the grass plains,
And feed the thirsty grain when it calls.

They stand with the time as it travels by,
In the way which gives them fun;
At passing nights under the stars,
And with sunflowers romancing the sun.

I choose to go and go abound, 
Into a never ending journey;
I choose not to be the boring clock,
But the dancing, merry tributary.

Do what you enjoy, enjoy what you do,
And dance with the honeyed song of time;
Or paint as your are meant with no exuberance,
And the time doesn’t give you back a dime.
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