The Clockwork Boy Dreamed

The clockwork boy dreamed. 

To the clockwork boy, it seemed,

That all the books he’d read

With boys and men of whom its said

They dared to reach beyond their state

And out of need, fulfilled their fate

Doing deeds, that were great

So maybe clockwork boy could be

More than clockwork, he would see. 

The clockwork boy waited. 

He dared to dream a time was fated

For him to reach beyond his state

And do a deed considered great

So wait he did for proper time

In meantime reading prose and rhyme

Dreaming big he hoped to shine

So maybe clockwork boy could do

A thing that poets will write too. 

The clockwork boy observed. 

Watched for needs where he could serve

Based not on gifts he bore innate

But hoped that gifts were born of fate

So plunging in when need arose

Not a dipping of the toes

A head-first plunge is what he chose

So maybe clockwork boy could trust

That though he lacked, it’d be enough. 

So clockwork boy acted. 

And gears and springs were all impacted

By strain of acts beyond his scope

But clockwork boy did naught but hope

That maker did have this in mind

When gears installed and springs he’d wind

Crafted as… one of a kind. 

So maybe clockwork boy won’t break

If acts were done all for his sake. 

So clockwork boy functioned. 

Doing deeds with one assumption

That deeds were done, not based on skill

But acts of grace done by his will

For to proclaim the gospel call

When fools and weak give their all

Then wise and strong of world will fall

And now clockwork life exhibits

Sufficient grace in all that it is. 

Then clockwork boy seemed

To fill his hopes and live his dreams

But clockwork parts won’t this strain take

Springs will fail and gears will break

No greatness now like stories old

Deeds unwritten, life untold

Wood hay stubble now unfold

Picked-up pieces moved aside

Pondering now what he had tried. 

So clockwork boy pondered. 

“What went wrong?” is what he wondered

He thought it wasn’t based on skill

Or wits or might or force of will

Weren’t it simply gospel grace

Enabled feeble, take their place

Along with chosen glorious race

Now he huddled, parts in hand

No strength remained to even stand. 

So clockwork boy darkened. 

No longer heard the call he harkened. 

No longer see the light from sky

No longer feel a breeze go by

Now alone in depths of pit

Ridiculous joke, piece o’ shit

Absent hope, this was it. 

No clockwork repairs in the deeps

Utter despair… a miserable heap. 

The clockwork boy looked

For any hope in maker’s book. 

He longed to find a simple word

From voice of him he often heard

Convey kindness when he spoke

Loved with simple lightweight yoke

The laden who were not a joke

But crafted with eternal thought

Into this scheme clockwork bought. 

The clockwork boy was let down. 

It seemed to him he had not found

The things that maker said were true

Of what a clockwork boy could do

Where was he when springs did break

When gears did fail and did not make 

Any difference for his sake? 

Does he stand now so far off

While the scoffers choose to scoff. 

But clockwork boy remained. 

Through grief there was some faith sustained

That maker had not failed at all 

But kept a plan with greater call

Beyond the clockwork boy’s own thoughts

With greater plans and fuller plots

Tying clockwork mind in knots. 

But written by a loving hand

He trusted now the makers plans. 

So clockwork boy picked up 

Broken pieces all messed up

Worthless now it seemed to him

For anything he might have been 

Tomorrow is an unknown thing

Miseries or joy to bring

Letting go of everything

He clung now to this only thought. 

His life by shed-blood had been bought.