The Bustle of Time

A new day dawns,
I’m welcomed into its embrace,
I journey its length and breadth,
I search its depth.
Time is in motion,
It reaches the end of its journey,
Its continuum collapses.

I board a train,
Twilight is its last station,
Midnight is its final stop,
There are no delays,
There are no obstacles,
In the multitude of my thoughts,
In the flow of my desires,
I find myself at the final stop.

I stand before a portrait,
The onus is mine to add my colours,
With each brush stroke,
With every hue,
Time wanders,
It tunnels through the elements,
A new day dawns,
Its portrait lies before me.

My tardiness is not a delay,
My swiftness is not speed.
It’s a strange entity,
A mysterious phenomenon,
An enigmatic existence,
Time brings us to the end of our journey,
And takes us into the beyond.

Ninth Place in the Poetry Soup Premier Contest