Through Dark Comes Time
I spend days sitting in my chair
looking at the endless cubicles like a maze with no escape.
Every day I walk past them observing their occupants,
some raving about how much they love their families,
some complaining about how they'd rather be alone,
most complaining about how they are gripped in the clutches of their work,
and how they need some time alone.
Time to them is an endless garden of lilies with some roses fallen astray,
symbolizing the lost love of their closed ones.
Time is a garden hidden in the depths of everyone's darkness,
masking its abundance behind layers of sorrow,
making us feel defeated and drowning us in regret.
Darkness but is just a gate,
rusted at the hinges and covered with creepers.
Blinding us from what lies in its bosom,
the very place where we are most afraid to look.