No Mans Time

Ten minutes is no mans time,
transitory in nature,
it merely leads us to a lengthier increment.

Ten minutes to wait for the bus,
which takes us away.
Ten minutes for the doctor to call your name,
to say how many days.

Ten minutes is no mans time,
just as is not mans land
a place we cannot go - though, intangible.

Ten minutes till the end of the day,
till the bell tolls its final call.
Ten minutes for the music to start,
you pull down your veil, and walk down the hall.

Ten minutes is no mans time,
transitory in nature,
it pulls us forward, makes us wait,
sometimes too short, sometimes a lifetime,
it belongs to no one,
yet everyone has owned it.

Ten minutes for the results,
which tell you your future.
Ten minutes till that doctor comes,
the one who applies the suture.

Ten minutes is no mans time,
just as is no mans land,
a place we cannot go - intangible,
but grasp for -
ever seeking to understand,
though it was not meant to be understood.

Transitory in nature,
it leads us to something greater.