The Clock Face

I stand at the centre of a clockface,
Murmurs on time's vibrations have become comfort's familiar embrace.

At 12 lies the minotaur's maze,
It's core feeds full with dreams of the amazed.

Come 3 and opportunity rears its righteous horns,
Which path beckons, that of prosperity or another for the forlon?

It's 6 and time calls for a decision to be made,
The red, the grey, the white ... only one can be paid.

9 does loom bringing a darkness to descend,
With it comes repercussions a decision can't mend.

The bell's toll rings and we arrive at the entrance,
Which way do you go? What will be time's expense?