The Time of Hearts

It all changes slowly, the way we’re perceived
As we do become more than we first meant 
I hear now before I see you, your beating heart
Keeping us constant as a pendulum’s swing
It wasn’t, I’m sure, that way from the start
My ears have become the windows to your soul 
These clocks of clay keep our best time here
The ones of wood, depending, may be good
But those of rock might run until the sun dies out
Yes, these clocks of clay sound out right our lives by day
And cool down to the quiet night when all washes away