The Power of Poetry

Boy with a watch

Boy with a watch is both a boy and not a watch. What does he think? What does he do? How can hours pass when he merely ticks his wrist? I’m sorry to tell that despite it feels like an eternity, time flies like an arrow, but I guess the price we pay for living in slow-mo is one more second without knowing anything. Even though he’s wearing a watch, he’s not keeping time. He may be watching TV, eating, chatting to me, or penning a poem. If only I could read his mind all day long.
Hommage à Piergiorgio Branzi *— by DALL·E, an AI system by OpenAI

I watch the seconds tick by.
Watching time fly by like a single mom on welfare,
I’m no good at this,
And sometimes I’d like to…
Snap my fingers and make it all stop. The moment. The panic. The fear. The uncertainty. Everything would… just… stop still, and I’d know and understand everything that happened before it had happened and know what to do next to fix things and make them right again.
A boy with…

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