I was carried by an invisible force,
aboard the train of wanderlust.
No one told me to get down, to get off
because the only inhabitants of the station
were blankets of mental dust.

The train bore me far away,
to realms that were in their making.
Realms of wonder and splendour
and realms of utter confusion
that were slowly disintergrating.

It travelled along an endless track
that kept vanishing from behind.
The fear of getting lost didn’t leave me,
the shadow of loss swallowed me.
Would I ever be able to get back?

I looked out the window
and saw the worlds coalesce and separate.
Where these lands a remnant of the past,
a figment of the future or an invasion
of the present in a form I didn’t know.

If my consciousness was being sought
by anyone who wasn’t lost,
they would find it, sitting and moving,
struggling  and jumping and travelling
in the train of thought.