Gliding through glistening ripples,
mirroring the milky blue from above.
Viewing the world side-on,
yet gracefully moving forwards.

Golden corn wave their hello.
The passing landscape rolls like revolving stage scenery,
painted by the finest.

She rests at her pilot’s will,
then moves forward once again;
gliding through glistening ripples.

An innocent child taught to share.
Taught to know that the relationship;
the journey to share knowledge, love, ideas
and our difference is key.

An educated adult never forgets the child's lesson.
But fear drives self-protection, materialism and pride.

To share what divides us is to plant the seeds of learning.
Comradeship grows from understanding,
and acknowledgement of those differences.

Build a fence. Build a wall.
Create the divide and create the perfect,
repugnant bigot's nursery.

Destroy the very values one thinks will be protected.
Fail to share as only a child learns and build humanity's failure.

Don't trust him.
His game is to play you; showmanship winning over the room.
Capability and knowledge cunningly imitated with sleight of hand.
Promises, their empty conclusion yet to unfold, and the nod of a mask.

Bluff and deceit form the paint on his mask,
and I see the cracks forming.

"Just five minutes more" is the cry.
Playtime has been interrupted by the familiar "hurry up."
Vocabulary common to every parent:
"You've had ten more already. Time to get out."

Why do they insist? My needs never win the battle.
Why is my fun spoilt with this never ending list of demands?
"Oh, it's not fair" is yelled in anguish and responded to by further rebuke.
The severity of consequence based on their ambiguous countdown is increasing;
a thread of the "Thinking Spot" will no doubt soon follow.

A few grumbles are followed by silent protest,
albeit underpinned with a threat of childish tantrum.
It's time for the family meal and this standoff has but one resolution.
Isolated relaxation time is over.

The timetable of the young child at the door demands no less;
the parent must vacate their ten minute bath.

Faces in a row wait to begin the daily shunt.
Sat aboard we bow our heads to handheld binary,
ignoring the large TV on adjacent walls.
Their broadcast, another repeat of moving scenery.

We sit with thumb in repetition; we know yesterday's story.
But the curiosity of which we serve fails to resist;
the craving for a pictorial record of a faux friend’s breakfast.

Lonely subjects completely surrounded by people.
Yet we hide – validating ourselves as socialites by algorithms of technology.
We sit, hoping to avoid a mundane clone of yesterday,
but facilitate it with various levels of hope for a change of train and different journey.

We’d know the grass isn’t greener on the other train’s TV,
if we looked up to see it.
Appreciate today’s episode, supply a faint smile to another, chat without a digit,
we may yet remedy our hope.

A deep foreboding, mistakes to reconcile;
sharing the infinite challenge while
bearing the burden within.

Direction, love and encouragement needed,
yet can we hold straight?

Time tells a tale; endeavour to dodge destiny's gamble.
Fate's conclusion beckons.