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The clock struck thirteen. The sun just would not move.
The clock struck thirteen, loud and strange,But still the sun refused to change.It stayed up high, so bright, so still,As if it rested by its will.The shadows froze upon the ground,No evening light could now be found.The birds flew lost, the flowers stayed,Half asleep and half awake.The people feared the endless day,They gathered where the clock would play.Its hands spun fast, its voice would cry,Thirteen times into the sky.Young Elian climbed the tower high,Where cold winds whispered through the sky.He found a door not there before,And stars beyond its silent door.A woman held the golden sun,She said, “They wished for time to runNo more with pain, no more goodbye,No more tomorrows passing by.”Elian said, “That wish is wrong,For nothing still can stay for long.”She placed the sun into his hand,Warm as love, bright as the land.He raised it high and let it go,At once the skies began to glow.The evening came, the town could see,That change is life, and life is free.The clock struck thirteen nevermore,And people learned this truth for sure:The sun must move across the blue,And all things must keep moving too.
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