... time ...

it ticks, it tocks;
rumbles and rocks.
it lazes and dazes;
fazes and amazes.

while it hurts, it lurks
smiles and smirks.
a gift to the young,
baggage for some.

is it a friend that bends,
or snaps at its end?
maybe it slows to a crawl
being no friend to us all.

instead of retreating
shouldn't we be beating
it like a snare drum
awaiting our turn.

it' a way-station
and no relation
to what we feel,
or what's real.

time is an illusion,
a land of confusion.
belonging to no one
yet, ours 'til it's gone.

10/05/2004