In time

Forest Terminal, oil on canvas, 122x182cm, 2007, by Mike Worrall

solitary standing on a cross way,

time ticking… tick, tick, tick, ticking,

every trice, a misery, a perplexed

epiphany, figure out, surmise, comprehend,

swift, swifter, amid the railway tracks,

trains coming, but distant, somewhere

concealed in the haze, voices of which

permeating, in the pores of air,

signal- red and green, one halting over,

the other not meant, to be attained,

tick, tick, ticking, still ticking,

solitary standing, on a cross way,

undulating assertions within,

shouting out the names of locations,

of times, past and future, of truths

and lies, of decisions and indecisions,

of memories, forgotten and alive,

move on, moving on, comprehend,

to board or not, the destinations

impassive, they do not care,

shrouded in a black apparel,

to discover the ways to endure it all,

time ticking, ticking, gone,

still standing, statued, entombed

in the instance of that moment,

stagnant, eroding pole of life,

no more ticking, but standing,

bewildered, unknowing, stopped

in the parallels of time, the time gone by,

standing still, at the cross way, ceased in time

.

The Sunday challenge features paintings by Mike Worrall at Imaginary garden with real toads. This poem is written, inspiring from the painting,  Forest Terminal.

I am tagging it as the post for 11 November for NaBloPoMo.

 

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