the train

each plank is a year

visible at the break of dawn

a curved turn and it disappears

the path goes on.

stones; laid out all over

sharp enough to break skulls

stones; creating foundation & segregation

stones; that will lead home

two endless parallel rails

the necessary medium for the train

the arrival creates reverbation

an inexplicable commotion

a sound that leaves a trail

silence before and after

heartbeats grow faster

the distance is difficult to scale

a man passes through, crosses the track

alcohol in one hand, in another hand snacks

finds a spot in the field where he can sit,

sips on his beer, the whole field his

for this transient moment he owns the place

he is life, and so is the train.

as long as the train is within his view

he cherishes it, for it is a retreat from the lonesome existence

and the shallow victories he considers unimportant

like the piece of land he owns, and the travellers within the train

going on for some reason, invisible, like tears in rain

the train disappears, and his end comes near

to get up, while the sun goes down

to go back to life, become one among the crowd

but he knows he will come back

for the rendezvous

for this is not the end

and they will meet again;

the man and the train;

as equals & friends.

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