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Poems

a layperson dreams of time, space and matter (part 2)

Maybe now we’ll be on time
maybe we’ll be left behind,
now our train has left
the station
speeding to our destination

Ticking seconds do not matter
Count our footsteps, and we scatter,
squeezing through the empty space
don’t you feel you’re out of place?

What will we do
when we arrive –
we’ve only known how to survive

Cautious steps, as we alight
train treads soft into the night,
are we at our destination? perhaps,
the answer’s at the station.

By chingzblog

History and literature buff

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