Be it youth, be it worth, be it solace in peace or bedlam, worship the One or the Gun or the Thing in the mirror...grieve for the hour and for the glass, for the lost past and the whispering sand. Time marches on and you can never come back.
Charlie...take this clock, hang it around your neck and don't forget. The gates are closed yet if you take her hand with an open heart and the warmth of your paw there will be no regrets.
Lost in the mist, in the shadow of its tick, life is love and we live for it. Nature may murder us all in the end yet she and you have found bliss.