Before the measure of an hour is passed their hands have moved the images of time from altars of cold hearts, from empty shrines to finally end the watch for slow or fast. Then moments split apart without a word to mark them; then a grain of sand explodes; and then we understand the secret, echo all that's been unheard through centuries of waiting. How unwind springs coiled by men of iron will for time-test vigils! And how still, unaided, flowers bloom and children find the opening of worlds we've never touched. Forgive us, please. Let starts and endings cease. Eclipse mechanics with your way of peace as stars and planets hum in order, hushed (before the measure of an hour is passed) to finally end the watch for slow or fast.