Today slowly reaches towards tomorrow.
The inhabitants of today bustle,
Hurriedly preparing for the end.
Reading, shoving, dressing, reciting, teaching.
Tis a time for everything!", you hear some exclaim.
"Yet where has all the time gone?", I implore.
Strolling amongst the rustlers unknowing.
Alone, trying to slow the already languid hands of time
What does one do with so many choices and only two sides to a coin?
Why does every first choice not get a second chance?
Tomorrow now closing in on today,
Adding a new page to a rapidly filling book.
Of which so many pages are blank.
With so many questions I scan through the book.
Searching for the "lane" so talked about so hungered for..
But finding nothing but blankets of white and pages of unknown faces.
I resign myself again to the sentiments of these strangers.
Kara Lynn Kampen
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