I swat at passing time.
A freight train with no destination.
An endless clock stands.
Taunting me.
A minute sparrow pops out,
reminding me of the inevitable end.
The audacity!
Endless roads lie before me
all calling my name.
They scream praises,
my heart remains mute.
What I desire is not apparent.
All the ostensible choices have been evaporated.
A cornucopia of confusion.

I walk among a whirlpool
attempting to stall time.
A false step proves to be fatal,
the vortex has its grip on me.
Roads collide.
Bringing messengers of hope.
They grasp me,
ease me out of the deadly centrifuge.
One messenger, a compassionate Jacques, looks at me with puzzling eyes.
Wondering why I am here.
Knowing I will be safe.
Another guardian, Lady Macbeth’s conscience, understands the disarray.
Humanity has witnessed this mindful confusion.
These two grab my hands and lead me from the chaos.
The duo jumps into the whirlpool and is lost,
without a trace.

The scenery shifts to an alley,
closing in.
I am frantic as coarse bricks bombard me.
Instinctively I cling to the disintegrating wall.
Two more protectors are patiently waiting.
A female deity and a male guard.
They hold back the atrocious walls
that threaten to consume me.
A girl, Minerva’s protegee, shows a tunnel:
a way out.
A much needed sanctuary from the closing structure.
The boy,
Heracles through and through,
charges at the wall with gusto.
A gladiator throwing himself at an enraged lion.
They vanish into thunder.

The setting manipulates.
A desert surrounds me.
No one for miles.
The sun beats down unmercifully
on my vulnerable head.
I feel shuffling behind me.
Turning around sharply,
I breathe a sigh of relief.
Here is the last curator.
My mortal paradisio.
Staring into my eyes, no words are said.
No words are needed.
He softly grabs my waist to embrace me.
The land changes around us,
the desert is whisked away,
and in its place
a serene meadow.

The clock is back,
it ticks patiently at my feet.