<p>Why the Rush?</p><p></p><p>Why the rush, this frenzied chase, </p><p>This breathless sprint through time and space? </p><p>The world demands a ceaseless stride, </p><p>A restless tide where dreams collide. </p><p>The clock, it ticks with ruthless might, </p><p>Its hands a whip from morn till night. </p><p>We run, we stumble, hearts ablaze, </p><p>Lost in the blur of endless days. </p><p></p><p>The streets are loud, a clamor’s din, </p><p>A symphony of haste within. </p><p>The horns, the shouts, the hurried feet, </p><p>Each pulse a race we can’t complete. </p><p>We clutch our lists, our plans, our goals, </p><p>Our minds weighed down by fleeting roles. </p><p>The inbox pings, the deadlines loom, </p><p>Each task a thread in life’s vast loom. </p><p></p><p>But why the rush? What do we gain </p><p>By chasing shadows through the rain? </p><p>The moments slip, like sand through hands, </p><p>Each grain a dream that time demands. </p><p>We trade the now for what’s ahead, </p><p>A future built on fear and dread. </p><p>We tell ourselves, “Just one more task, </p><p>One more achievement, then we’ll bask.” </p><p></p><p>Yet bask we don’t—there’s always more, </p><p>Another hill, another shore. </p><p>The finish line, it shifts, it fades, </p><p>A mirage born of plans we’ve made. </p><p>The coffee cools, untouched, alone, </p><p>While screens cast light on hearts of stone. </p><p>We scroll, we click, we swipe, we send, </p><p>Forgetting how to simply mend. </p><p></p><p>The meadow waits beyond the road, </p><p>Where wildflowers bloom and rivers flowed. </p><p>The sparrow sings, unhurried, free, </p><p>Its song a call to you and me. </p><p>Why can’t we stop, just for a breath, </p><p>To feel the earth, to cheat our death? </p><p>The sky is vast, its clouds don’t race, </p><p>They drift with calm, eternal grace. </p><p></p><p>I’ve seen the man who runs through dawn, </p><p>His eyes on goals from dusk till gone. </p><p>His shoes are worn, his spirit frayed, </p><p>Each step a debt that’s never paid. </p><p>I’ve seen the mother, stretched too thin, </p><p>Her laughter drowned by daily din. </p><p>She juggles time, her heart’s a clock, </p><p>Each tick a chain, each tock a lock. </p><p></p><p>Why the rush? The stars don’t flee, </p><p>They burn with patient majesty. </p><p>The oak stands firm, its roots dig deep, </p><p>No hurry in the dreams it keeps. </p><p>The river curves through stone and clay, </p><p>It finds its path, it knows its way. </p><p>No frantic pace, no desperate flight, </p><p>Just steady flow from day to night. </p><p></p><p>I walked a path through autumn’s glow, </p><p>Where leaves fell soft, and winds were slow. </p><p>The air was crisp, the world alive, </p><p>Each step a pulse, each breath a drive. </p><p>I saw the world in hues of gold, </p><p>A story whispered, ancient, old. </p><p>The trees didn’t rush to shed their leaves, </p><p>No haste in how the forest grieves. </p><p></p><p>I sat beneath a willow’s shade, </p><p>And watched the light and shadow fade. </p><p>The silence spoke, its voice so clear, </p><p>It drowned the noise of doubt and fear. </p><p>I felt the weight of time dissolve, </p><p>Each worry stilled, each knot resolved. </p><p>The world, it seemed, could wait a while, </p><p>Could spare a moment for a smile. </p><p></p><p>Why do we race to meet the end, </p><p>When life’s a curve, not just a bend? </p><p>The moments missed, they pile, they stack, </p><p>No coin, no key can bring them back. </p><p>The child’s small hand, the lover’s gaze, </p><p>The quiet dusk of softer days— </p><p>These slip away while we pursue </p><p>A prize that’s never quite in view. </p><p></p><p>The city hums, its pulse a roar, </p><p>Each neon sign screams, “More, more, more!” </p><p>But what’s the cost of all this speed, </p><p>This endless want, this gnawing need? </p><p>Our hearts grow heavy, minds grow dim, </p><p>The soul’s soft light begins to thin. </p><p>We trade our peace for fleeting gain, </p><p>And wear the scars of self-made pain. </p><p></p><p>So pause, dear soul, and lift your eyes, </p><p>Beyond the rush, the frantic cries. </p><p>The world will turn, it always does, </p><p>Without our strain, without our buzz. </p><p>The sunrise waits, the moon will rise, </p><p>No need to chase what fills the skies. </p><p>Each breath you take, each step you slow, </p><p>Reclaims the life you’re meant to know. </p><p></p><p>Why the rush? Let’s break the chain, </p><p>Let’s walk through life, not flee its pain. </p><p>The meadow calls, the river sings, </p><p>The heart finds peace in simple things. </p><p>A cup of tea, a friend’s soft laugh, </p><p>A moment’s pause, a photograph. </p><p>These are the truths that time can’t steal, </p><p>The quiet joys that make us real. </p><p></p><p>So let the clock tick on its own, </p><p>Its hands can’t claim the life you’ve sown. </p><p>Embrace the now, let worries cease, </p><p>Find in the stillness, boundless peace. </p><p>For in the end, when all is done, </p><p>It’s not the race, but love, we’ve won. </p><p>Why the rush? The heart’s own beat </p><p>Is all the time we’ll ever need. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p>
Why the rush?
ByChidinma Emilia•1 play
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