Labyrinth

This is the point
where you close your eyes
and let the brown walls seep through,
calming your nerves.

Open your ears to the constant strums
rhythmically filling
the tiny cocoon
as the aroma of freshly roasted beans
wafts through.

No one says anything -
the words all but soothes
the silent lips:
this is the place
where you ought to be mute
in order to feel.

Beyond the glass panes,
the crowd bustles about
excitedly, doggedly,
routinely taking their paths.

You,
in your cocoon,
you hear not the ticking
of the clock.
Time is merely Time;
you do not grow old.

You are not trapped -
any moment, you'd have to step out
and join the moon
as it changes its orb,
inevitably.

For now, it is a comfort to remain,
benign and serene,
in your earthly abode,
away from the strife
of motions, of noise.

Within the world,
yet apart from it.