Traffic Rush

In the hustle of morning's wake,

Where roads and spirits start to shake,

An ensemble of motors murmur,

As city life drums.

The streets, they weave like veins of steel,

Where dreams and fates uncover,

Every vehicle a vessel, venture bound,

Looking for comfort, won't ever find.

From expressways huge to rear entryways tight,

Where shadows dance in blurring light,

Every convergence, an intersection of destiny,

Where ways separate and hearts anticipate.

Through substantial wildernesses, towers tall,

Where dreams are fabricated and spirits fall,

However in the midst of the bedlam, magnificence sparkles,

In murmured moans and quiet dreams.

With each blare, a voice unheard,

In each path, a story conceded,

For in this rush, we as a whole try,

To arrive at a spot, our hearts want.

Yet, in the quiet of the evening,

At the point when neon blurs and stars land,

The city rests, its cadence still,

As dreams take off, on wings of will.

So let us love this never-ending suburbia,

Where dreams impact and expectations enchant,

For in its tumult, we track down our direction,

In each first light, a fresh out of the plastic new day.