A clock is a clock.
Time is a lock.
It locks you in

by the actions you took,
by the actions you did not,
by the actions others took,
and the actions no one took.

The past is closed.
The future is unwritten,
built from every YES and every NO
we give to now.
Even the present slips away
the moment we name it.

Today is tomorrow’s past.
Before it closes in on you,
begin now.

And NOW, turned around, is WON.
And what is won, you OWN.

In our home, the clock was set,
on purpose, thirty minutes fast,
a hedge
that made it easier
to lose yourself.
Guests knew, and stayed a little longer.
We sometimes forgot,
and there was the surprise:
time seemed to stop.

Time is the one commodity
no one can make more of.
But a forgotten half hour
can become stillness.
The art of forgetting
is how we learn it.
A clock can be set by your hand.
So can the eye that reads it.

Freedom is waking up
and choosing where to pour
your time, your energy, your attention,
and showing up for it
again tomorrow.
Where you pour it
is where you find yourself.

Each of us keeps a clock of our own.
The one on the wall
is only a bridge between them,
so that we can meet
and honor one another’s time.

We can meet another
only as deeply
as we have met ourselves.

One day, every clock stops.
Until then,
the hands are yours.

A clock is a clock.
Time is a lock.
It locks you in.

Or does it?

Moushimi Doshi