What is time without / A beating heart?

I’ve seen this scene before.
Played out like a film, it lived
In my mind, forever.
The strangeness of a
Moment passed,
Somewhere in my future.

Was it a dream,
Or a moment’s departure
From a world we like
To pretend we understand?
Can we ever see beyond the
Prison of our knowledge?

What is time without
A beating heart? Who
Makes its seconds, minutes, hours
To add up? Without breath how
Could we know time? Does
Time know of us?

Its measure is our
Movement. Its passing,
Like a breeze we
Cannot say if we really
Felt, or just imagined.
But it changed us.

In the end, we can
See the path its passing
Carved. Countless moments,
Thoughts, decisions, visions.
It governed our every second.
And we never knew it.

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