TIME...

Time,
That void between birth and death,
The emptiness that fills our very reason for existence,
The gaping hole between who we are and who we like to believe we would become one day,
The people who we made smile and the tears we instigate,
The carnival of our ignorance,

Time is a charade,
The subconscious balance that wobbles the very foundation of the life we build around us – our precious refuge.
The soul of the imaginary, yet uncertain.

Time leaves us helpless,
And yet, it gives us the strength to deal with the helplessness and hopelessness,
It teaches us to inquire, to believe,
It’s just a reason, an excuse,
That seat in the back row, which always remains empty,
That orange autumn leaf in a tree with a full bloom,
That smile between kisses,
That soft touch of love, evanescent,
Each drop of what drives us with red,
It’s like a fever that we can’t sweat out,
It’s like the dance around a bonfire, of the burnt pages that we’ve scribbled our feelings on,
Every feeling that we want to let go,
We are still the fools at the wrong end of a cigarette, with every breath we take, the fire still burns at the other end,
It burns cavernous holes into the very soul it’s destined to satisfy,
Such big holes, that it gives away all our insecurities to the world,

Time is irony,
We’re the enemy and the prisoner,
A prisoner of words, and yet only a reflection,
Helpless and still bizarre.
It’s the immobilized, daft existence that validates its present, past and future, if there is one,

Time is not being able to find a better word,
Pleasure and pain, all at the same time,
Time is ambiguous,
Full of feelings, and yet the lack of them,
The numbness,


And everything burns away --with time,
The rapture, the recognition, the renaissance…..