The hour's hand has slowed to crawl, to drag, and shudder to a halt.
Perfection of unreal dimension, frozen in void's flawless eye.
An age, an aeon, a Blink! It's past.
Then down the tableau cracks a fault
with crystal, "Ping!"
it vibrates! sings!
And all that's held back strains along
the thread unravelling double-time.
The swan's song echoes sweet upon
a breath of wind
then wings afar