A Clock's Work

It must bow to nature’s ivy!
This creation of mine,
As nothing has stood for longer,
In the copious shrines of time,
My clockwork too I have created!
That creates the illusion of my growth,
Fathomed solely by my vague words,
Uninterested in my worth...
This highway then slides along,
Beyond my vision or control,
Like a serpent lost in madness,
In its own euphoric stroll...