Had a deja vu of this prose after writing it. A strange muse.
Reaching in I took it out
Carefully, while it continues its
I watched as it pulsated
Like clockwork, so sure and steadfast
Yet it could not feel
No recollections of when or how
It had begun, this resurrection embraced
In its impenetrable shell
May be for better, or perhaps
For worse; but bearable for the
Unmoved solace it brings.