Hear not the fools who say we are all free,
if truth be told in chains we captive be.
In seconds and minutes held by clock hands,
our steps imprint only hourglass sands.
Ignorant bliss blind to calendar locks,
while Time close watching with sickle held mocks.
My sentence it marches, as youth, hours kill,
the shaped glass turned over, bottom half fills.
Thus choice gains in import, day turns to year,
my need is clear thought, Time’s footsteps are near.
In prison yet glad thought clear and heart true,
the clock it ticks on, my hours, for you.