Grandfather Clock

My father says life is like a pendulum-

-I think it is a pendulum of a single swing

     we are babes

          we are men

               we are old

                    and then, the

                         pendulum freezes-

or does it break in its swing,

oh so violent in its final stroke

or - do we swing back (to life?)

                           from old

                       to men

                   to babes

then back again?

     ...to something else?

     do we turn to birds?

soar to a lie in the sky

          or 

sink to a fear in the ground.

     Oh wise Grandfather clock!

that stands so patriarchal

    over the graves and airs of men,

Where does your pendulum place us? 

-Tell me how 
     you keep on swinging on

after your maker has been gone
   for so long.