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