Tick tock, the clock keeps ticking.These lines keep moving round and round. This waltz around an endless circle. Ever so diligent, ever so precise.
‘Tis time that this device measures, but what of this concept called time, which we are lost in its inner workings. This harsh, winding reality which is splendid and beautiful with each turn.
And what of this fine tuner, this grand artisan in this endeavor? Our fates be strung like a cello, each possibility like keys on a piano.
We reach our hands out to this intangible illusion. So precious to us are these moments, so fragile like tiny snowflakes.To retrieve what was lost, it is a fruitless effort. We cannot leap these lines and changes these outcomes, and those who do find tragedy and despair.
All we can do is follow this spiral, sway to this rocking pendulum.
hoshi wo ou kodomo + sky