The Clock 's Chime

**The Clock’s Chime** *(By Vijay Sharma Erry, Ajnala, Amritsar, Punjab)* As evening closed, I sat in quiet thought, My dreams like restless rivers, newly caught. What life remains? What stories yet untold? The night sighed soft in shades of fading gold. Then came the chime—a sound so deep, so strange, It split the air and set the stars to change. The walls dissolved like sand in whispered wind, And through the haze, a vision came unpinned— A face I knew, yet older, wise, and true, *My own*, but bathed in time’s unearthly hue. *"You seek your path?"* it murmured, low and clear, *"Then walk beyond the shadow of your fear."* I reached—my fingers brushed the ghostly guide, And stepped into the turning of the tide. Past, future, present swirled in one bright stream, A fleeting glimpse of all I’d dared to dream. I saw my hands, now weathered, hold a book, Ink-stained and filled with lines the world forsook. I heard the songs I’d sung in Punjab’s fields, The love I’d sown, the wounds that fate had healed. Then—*gone*. The clock stood still. The night returned, Yet in my chest, a newfound purpose burned. No more I wondered what my life should be— The chime had sho