The Big Forever-'Never

When does the end predict the start?
For whom do lovers bare their art?
And this is the rhythm of the beating heart.

On second one, I'm hit.
On second two, I and we are hit...
...et cetera ad infinitum.

Alas, go minutes, too -
beginning, thus, at one and two.
My nemeses - I tire but fight them.

So go they on as such
as hours to days. The cost is much.
I fear I'll ne'er see my load lighten.

And this is the rhythm of the beating heart:
One - tick, two - tick,
Three, thus - tick.

And this is the rhythm of the beating heart:
Four and five to fifty-nine.
At sixty now, no seconds thine.

The minutes they crawl and the years do fly.
Infinities stretch from sky to sky
as generations fight and children cry.

One-bang, two - bang,
Three, thus - bang!
Four, five and six do choke yin's yang.

And this is the rhythm of the beating heart.
Warring dicta tear flesh apart
as muses sacrifice their art.

The days grow long, yet end draws nigh.
And this is the end promised by the start.
And every birth compels yet one to die.

And this is the rhythm of the beating heart,
that plays to the rhythm of the dying art.
To all's eternity, each plays his part.

One - tick, two - tick,
Three - CLICK!
BANG!!!

Atoms to stars.
The clock is the farce.
Past from future we cannot parce.

One - bang, two - bang,
Three - BIG BANG!!!
My load, bourn and yet reborn!

Shared and mourned on this and future morns.
Growing ever intertwined and so adorned.
Tomorrow and tomorrow, and man's clock is worn.

At last.
Alas!
*THIS* is the rhythm of the beating heart!!!