TIME.

So many people run for the train
Disheveled and breathless and desperate,
Complaining of lateness for whatever cannot begin
At a destination they have yet to be in
Whereas I walk my own pace
And in doing so
Cultivate presently all that I know
Which is; Time is illusory,
The clock is a grid
As at odds with itself as the ego and id
And when I walk with purpose
I'm taking My time
Instructing the outcome events in my stride
Conscious that I am creating my world
Out of moments I carry with me and unfurl
Like I'm splattering paint on a bare, empty canvas
Or spilling light into unknowable dark
And more often than not I have witnessed
The train tracks flooding with sparks
At the moment my feet touch the boarding platform;
My arrival's departure from what is the norm
Allowing me freedom and fluidity
To float through the threshold with unparalleled ease
As I hear 'Stand clear of the closing doors, please'
I smirk to myself because I've learned the secret
While holding the handrail or finding a seat,
I'll get there when I'm meant to, I'm certain of this
If I'm clenching my jaw and squeezing my fists and
Fighting against that which has no existence
Outside the confines of my very own mind
Spinning and spitting and cursing my own time
It takes on a power in staunch opposition
To me til I'm on an impossible mission
And soon won't comply to my petty resistance
And when I need help offers little assistance
To what I imagine, in ill-conceived notion,
That chaos should grant me it's utter devotion
Why so many struggle and so many fail
To recognize rational reason. The rail
Is as fictional now as an old fairytale;
A journey enchanted and every detail
Of it's plot strung together like cars on a cable
Fabled to run on a structured timetable
But time doesn't tell you and me what to do-
YOU make time, when you make time work for you