Because I can carry this.
X of Wands Spell
Things go bang in the night,
Sounds go bump in the fright.
Tickety-tock, clickety-clock—
they're all still staring at me.
These walls hold time up—
the dust settles into crickety-cracks.
The ticking is sticking,
the heaviness like an ax.
Blood-slowing, time is struck.
Time-flowing—
only in my hand is it unstuck.
I recall it all,
but I'm only visiting this hall.
The weight of the eights,
held up, but not on display—
I can carry one
but can't leave them all.
The seconds sometimes beckon—
but there's no alarm.
The minutes might limit—
but they don't trigger; they charm.
Wandering through the wisdom,
it's still going to tire me—
but I know the hours don't sour
everything that lives inside me.
Tickety-tock, tickety-tick,
the standing-still faces
no longer make me sick.
Because I can carry this.