The Open Canvas [Poetry]

Am I Being Ungrateful?

I watch the sunrise wishing it was the sunset.
I yearn for the sun to transform into the night's main attraction.
Five days a week I am stuck in an alternate universe.
The clock mocks me every second of being in existence.
Time performs in the opera house of my head.

Tick Tock, Tick Tock.

I can see the ghost of my goals,
And touch the light of its shadows.
The canvas written with bold paint.
Were the footprints painted in transparent or opaque ink?

I have the basket on my table,
But it is not yet full.
Is it so wrong for me to want more?
These baskets have supplied my every needs.

Some have none.

Yet I feel something is wrong because I complain.
Be grateful I can say.
For one day the Magician will use my basket in his disappearing act.