It is a busy world of work;

lost in the glamour of its speed,

all that I can clearly make out

are the tiny lights which zoom by,

leaving dimly lit trails in their wake

Fixed directions and set minds,

everybody just seems to be rushing

this way or that in the lanes.

And in the middle am I standing,

transfixed at the amazing sight.

It is a beautiful world, actually

once you try to notice its beauty.

Ironic that it won’t really exist,

if not for the speed and race -

an unusual example of complementary

All of a sudden, I’m pushed forward;

the trance broken, I realise that

it’s someone else’s turn now

to take my place at this very spot,

and for me to become the lights.