The Pendulum Poem by Abhimanyu Raman

I mark my days in a clock without hands
Each hour’s worth etched,
Into the metal,
My heart screams in disgust
As I paint the fabric of my days, with deeds
Not necessarily noble, nor otherwise, simply
Inconsequential, unnecessary,
Serving only to lift the boredom away
Even so, there is no definite direction, as to where I go
Back and forth the pendulum of my life swings
And I, my lies, and all that now lie behind
Follows the rhythm, neither moving forth
Nor coming back, simply contemplating in the middle
Whether to move forth or back
Nor at peace doing so, for thus I lose
My means to move beyond
As day stretches on to year,
And year, to lifetime
I find the integrity of all I established
Fading away, even as I, stubborn to the end,
Refuse, to fade so lightly, away

In the end, I find,
I never did leave for, nor reach anywhere
Simply swaying all the while, to the tune
Of the pendulum
Or was I, reverberating my way through the days
The pendulum I speak of itself?