This is a really rough writing.
I probably didn’t need to put all of this in poem format, but I did, so here you go.
Really uneven and somewhat-vague. Could’ve been much better.
I hope you enjoy.
—
It begins in the morning
Sounds low and muted
The droning hum increases
As many join the bitumen
It comes and goes
As spaces widen
Whilst pathways narrow
To preserve direction
Features rise and fall
Constantly during motion
They’re formless and uniform
Yet differing in details
The path turns and leads
Yet seems lacking
For it stretches
From day to night
Afternoon arrives
Illumination increases
A mass of others
Appear for some moments
The scenery changes
Cast within light
In this shining moment
Day’s last hours fall
The sounds become
A solitary hum
Until a new collective
Finds itself seen
From there flow expands
Until the path diverges
As the journey concludes
It ends in the night
