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The Traveling


I took a train ride a couple of days ago...the first time I've traveled the rails in years...

The wheels move in metal beneath us,

Gyrating, rhythmic, lulling,

Relentless percussions of time.

Whether stranger or friend

There is a homing, here,

In fullness and form.

Traveling the rails

We wear our stories in silent, fragile cocoons,

Swaddled safe amid the rocking sways of an iron cradle.

Anonymous fragments of life

Hurtle past and disappear into others --

Leaving here, becoming there.

Autumn's hues of daylight, earth and fire

Dazzle the eye.

Careening, plunging forward,

We thrust into a storm that rages soundless.

Giant fireflies illuminate a sky of woolen gray.

Too soon, night envelopes us.

Windows become mirrors,

Measures of distance vanish

In vibrations and shadows.

I bow my head as a nudging of sleep beckons

And wonder....

Can anyone see the beauty, the promise of us?

Arriving, lingering, departing,

We are as remnants of the rain --

Liquid stars clinging to the glass

And the dreams that lay beyond.

Ludovico Einaudi - Divenire (Becoming)

© 2019 Genna East

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