The Tunnel Of Time

Mystified in the labyrinth of time, dug in the desolate desert of deprivation, one doesn’t discern in the psychic space what in the nebulous abstract notion the rationale of living the moments, people of speculative perception define as the articulate art of living, sensed in the free-will sunshine within the sanctuary of seraphic oasis. The survival struggle thrusts the languished life into abysmal warren, breaking intrepidly the fading frame of the fleeting future configured in fragile time, the shards are thrown in the debris of dismal denunciation, unable to rise from the chasm, even if arduously attempted ad infinitum. Failing to invent the mirage of escape, the flicker of hope remains unkindled to light up the obscure forward end of the dark tunnel of tormenting time, but self-preserving retrospective instinct, lingering in the contrived confine of the past, flashes in the corridor of memory, motivates to move desperately to the fated fantasy of the future. The sordid present time smothers senseless in the nightmare ambiance of anguish, metamorphosing the listless life of vacuity into a consumed candle in the timeless dark night. As the demeaned essence of extinguished existence is denied the reviving rays of the rising sun, convoluted conscience stimulates the soul to get suffused with the radiant ethos of eternity, travel in the tunnel of time.