The world goes forward
For better or worse
Time travels at the speed of light
Toward its own destiny
Artists toil under the canopy
   of forgotten memories
In the age of technology
Does anyone care
We surround ourselves
In a glass bubble
   of our own making
Shielding the sun’s rays
   from reality
While bending them into conformity
The bubble bursts
And time is thrown into the vortex
Screaming for surrender
A temper-tantrum of fate
Grasping at straws
Yet knowing no relief
Forever the moment
Held in a wine glass
   of shimmering incandescence
As the world goes forward
Without relief

3/25/19

www.brucelevine.com