Rushing through the morning myriad of messages. Try'en the impossible.

We rush on like the “Mad hatter", balancing
life, between the hands of time.

Catapulted into the moment from other dimension. The morning rush hour rushes

We open the door for the murid who races through the maze of our mind.

Settle down on the distant shore. Savoring the taste of salt from our struggles.

From the many possible expressions, it’s in words where we make our escape. 

Wishing the hourglass could transcend time in solitude.

Leaving our dreams in a timeless eternity. Our compromise, living in the now.

Time we cannot create, whether real or imagined life passes us by.

As we travel on the murid express conducted by a poet with words that rhyme.

Poetry by Anthony Russomanno