Traveling Through Time

You don't know
How it is for life to pass you by
Until you stop living it.
And then do the days roll by,
Like steamrollers they do,
And there is a solace
In knowing how worthless
Each passing moment is.

The anxiety of now.
Why did we accept it?
There is no poetry
To impatience.
So, on marches
The vagaries of days,
And minutes and hours,
The self-same apparatus.

But it goes
Without me getting stuck in it.
The machinery doesn't need me,
Nor do I need it.
But the self-same days pass
Without meaning.
They need a change.

Nothing to look forward to!
That is the dilemma.
Every day the same.
No struggle, no difference.
Oh, to find the struggle
In solving the problems of others!
But no, I must invent it
In my own life and struggle with it.

To sit above the fray;
This is the dream of all.
But to sit above the fray
Is a difficult position.
The admission of struggle
As an everyday part of life
Is the infection
Which keeps us pinned to it.

Traveling through time.
That is a hard thing to do
Without inventing struggle
To make time slow down
And, so we think,
Give some meaning to our lives,
Or take our last breath,
Either way, something new.