Intuition Poem by Noorul Basar

In the rare moment of joy,
I have a feeling I am full
Up to the brim, of purpose and hope.
Yet in the rare moment of joy,
I have a feeling I am stuck
In the timely illusion of untimeliness;
Yesterday, today and tomorrow are names,
And nothing more than names.
I am in war with repetitions.
In this rare moment of joy,
I have a feeling I am fluid,
Flowing from yesterday through today
Into again yesterday.
Time seems to be a circle, and I am stuck.