Tag: train

Sudden Stop

train

A train,
symbolic in motion,
always moving forward,
cutting through the horizon,
occasional vanish in the wood,
then reappearing like clockwork,
we know we can wait on the other side,
the tracks indicate all possibility,
we wait in confidence,
we anticipate the beauty of the roaring machine
slicing through the forest,
designing an historic artistry
of our landscape,
how we exist,
we live and communicate together,
waiting for the trains to arrive.
I find the train’s roar similar to my
human condition,
who I am and how I operate
depends upon an open field,
an opportunity to flourish amongst the
leaves and trees, the brick and mortar,
the common secrecies that lie beneath our eyes,
I can watch for my next move,
knowing there is always a possibility that
lies before my soul.
~
What happened that cool winter day,
when the caverns that support our travel,
when the gravel and strength, man-made,
began to crumble.
What happens when suddenly our lives,
become mortal.
Can we wait how long to see the train,
exit that mysterious tunnel,
or will it remain everlasting,
why do we have to imagine that motions
become dependent on life inside a
sudden stop.

~

keep searching for the light,

keep searching … in the sudden stop

there always remains a light!

Wait, Why … When?

( I would ask for feedback, as I consider submission with this piece )

~

I walk past every day

watching

while waiting

in wonder I imagine

where in time we wander

when a fleeting moment takes me away

~

Only if true this departure

remains

seductive in romantic airs,

a symbolic gesture toward passion.

Will there be a solution

beyond that visual apparition

keeps me nearby

waiting, bags packed again.

~

Step forward in motion

cry for the breeze that implies

a change in season,

perhaps a new autumn.

For a time,

have not a single chime,

yet hear as I stand,

waiting,

for that silent arrival.

~

Distant sounds,

nostalgia,

my bedroom as a child

listening to a world out of reach,

and wondering if my smitten innocence

might answer the call.

Is the whistle only heard

by those wandering souls

who wait in subtle repose?

That arrival is a necessary move,

a symbiotic revolution,

beforehand, as brief a quiet departure,

Wait …