Transition Through Time (Verse I)

Life is a riddle;
a riddle that spawned puzzled stairways;
stairs leading into a tunnel of time;
a time which never begun;
a time which never ends.

I sat and observed life;
a dead clock ticked past twelve,
past thirteen and fifteen,
seventeen and nineteen,
and twenty-four,
skipping all in-between,
in accordance to human lore.

Walking past an empty hallway
of sacrifices in a darkened morning.
I'd left myself standing by the doorway;
if this tunnel will ever stop mourning,
when will it ever stop crying?
An empty space shedding tears
is to all of us,
a useful machine with broken gears.
And now the hallway is filled with gears,
which are all rusted and busted;
which were originally tools of fears;
which will be swept and dusted
by a cheerful sweeper
and a dying gatekeeper.

The walls of time soon cracked;
they crumbled into pieces
and they stacked
to form only vague pieces.
An everlasting riddle of time;
is the only riddle
which is worth a fraction of my time.