Stasis

A standstill,
  Advancing forward,
  While remaining
  Where
  One
  Began.
  
  A vicious circle,
  Hopes and dreams
  In
  Overdrive
  While life
  Is in 
  Neutral,
  
  Clinging to a
  Future
  As insubstantial
  As 
  The space
  Between
  Seconds
  
  A past
  Everlasting,
  Haunting the
  Present.
  
  A present
  Of grinding
  Ambition.
  
  Of tenacious hope
  Of bittersweet
  Memories
  Sugarcoated
  With the longing
  To relive
  What one cannot.
  
  When does
  The past become
  The present become
  The future?
  
  When does
  The future become
  The present become
  The past?
  
  Life --
  
  The mysterious,
  The insubstantial,
  The spark.
  
  To live is
  To Dream.
  
  To die is
  To not.
  
  Without hope
  There is nothing.
  
  Without hope
  There is only
  The perfect
  Silence
  Of
  Death.
  
  Dreaming,
  We spend
  Each second
  Free from
  The bounds
  
  Of Reality
  
  Awake,
  We live.
  
  Each minute 
  Rushing into
  The next.
  
  A forgone
  Conclusion
  
  A tale told
  A thousand 
  Times
  Before.
  
  Yet we
  Continue
  Onward.
  
  Through
  Fate's
  Revolving
  Door.
  
  Each Life 
  A fingerprint --
  
  Different,
  Yet,
  The same.
  
  The loops
  And 
  Whorls
  
  Change
  
  But the
  Flesh
  Beneath
  Remains the
  Same.
  
  Bleeding Red,
  As the Clock
  Ticks
  Slowly
  
  Patiently
  
  Silently
  
  Time slipping
  Through
  Our fingers
  
  Never to be 
  Recaptured
  
  Never to be
  Relived
  
  The clock
  Ticks
  Inexorably
  On.
  
  Immutable,
  Immeasurable,
  
  Immaculate.
  
  The Master 
  Of us
  
  ALL.
  
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