They storm in with purpose and flee without significance
Red is swallowed by white only then for green to creep through the cracks
They go forth like this, uninterrupted
The victories of March are suppressed by June
On and on they move like cattle unknowingly to their fate and I, like a sheep, cling to some shepherd who leads me only to another
Meaningless.
A map that flips with no destination
Rushing with no time to lose in a circle
caught in a warped track leading nowhere
Time.
Like parts of a clock that nearly assemble yet fail to tick
Like seconds that add up to never make an hour
A continuous stream of days that never make a year
No conclusion, No end, No gain