The wheels draw to a halt with an ominous screech,
Dazed, I look up from my broken revery;
Murmuring voices, shuffling footsteps alight,
A diffracted spectra, some dark, some bright.
To the windows shift my moony eyes,
As the engine spurts with a burst of life.
Through a tunneling limbo of seamless dark,
Slash ribbons of rail in swirls and arcs.
In this labyrinth, this state of oblivion,
Memories trickle, in ounces, in millions.
Lights of saffron on the arches bloom,
Will-o'-the-wisps, my conscience assumes.
Emerge awed, under a canopy of stars,
An infinity of dreams one could wish upon.
The country bathes in the moonlight deluge.
Utopia, I muse, for my poetic refuge.
The cosmos smiles, enchanting yet so strange.
Would we ever know why, if we weren't so vain?
Gold, moltened crimson, at the horizon streaks,
Warm like the dribble, of tears on one's cheeks.
The last station nears, the wheel rhythm slows.
I get up, wishing the end weren't so close.
The final chapter. Is there ever a further plot?
Perhaps, I decide, on another train of thought.
