The Subtle in the Sublime

Time passes while the now stands still.

Everyone frantically searches with their eyes sewed shut.

The cycles, the flow, the every-changing truth that constantly stays the same.

Death lingers closer with each passing day, unbeknownst to the manic fear intertwined with its destiny.

When freedom knocks, we run and hide;

Afraid of the nothingness that exists in dark alleys filled with secret desires. 

I dream of sweet release only to be born again into chaos.

The world closes in around me until all that is left is everything.

Reviews

[ogirhsog]

Well, your poem doesn't seem to have any particular rhyme or rhythm. Consequently I'm not sure it could properly be considered a "poem" per se. I'm afraid it doesn't really make much sense either. I just can't tell from reading it, what it's actually supposed to be about. Perhaps you could expand it a bit more and add some more details, so as to make it more clear just what your poem is actually about?

[Ballpark Frank]

Well, I can relate to this too! We are all in a hurry to get no where aren't we? I hate going to work someday, but turn I think.....what else better is there to do?

[Davidgeo]

Reminds me of the physics of relativity and how there is so much more underlying the world we live in that we cannot perceive than we can; that we are not biologically capable of perceiving, but, exist none the less. This is good work. You're an outstanding writer. "time passes while the now stands still..." that line holds more truth than most people think, I would wager.