Heart that Breathes

In the heart of the clock
beats a breath, discreet and deep.
It does not count seconds
it measures the life that comes in.
Every inhalation moves the hand,
every exhalation brings it back to the chest.
The dial becomes a window
on the breath that gives wings to time.
Night loosens the spring,
the day calls it back.
Here time becomes a pause
and the pause breathes with me.
Thus time is breath
not the seconds, but the breaths guide it.
If the air turns to silence,
the heart of the clock remains alive.