"The longest trains in the world run in the US, Australia and China, as well as in some mining regions in Africa. These trains can be several kilometers long. The longest train ever was an ore train in Australia with ~7.3km (~4.5mi), consisting of 682 cars and 6 engines."*
What know these train buffs who measure length,
In mere miles, kilometers, numbers of cars,
These mechanical movers, impressive to the eye,
Yet,
I have witnessed, not just seen, believed,
In a train that overwhelms not just the eyes,
But the heart, surpasses the limits of the mind's eyes.
It breaks imagination and says it is conceived,
Announcing to anyone, all who board, your are now,
Our newest,
Strongest link.
This train knows no regulation, track nor load constraints,
For it travels on invisible tracks on the Internet,
If need be, the good people at HP will add
More server capability.
This train, intercontinental, more,
Global,
And I have on god authority,
There are participants from
Other
Planets.
But shhhhhh! That's on a need to know basis...
This train, never reaches a final destination,
Coursing thru the veins, our arteries,
It has a heart that forever beats, cannot, ever,
Die, it is unstoppable, once in motion,
Transferred to the next one, by kiss ethereal.
For it has an energy, a peculiar one, not capable
Of being explained on Google or Wikipedia.
Try it, you non-believer, there is no correct definition of
Poetry In Motion, as the longest train ever...
Each car a different color, a different song,
No two alike, no two in tune, yet all in concert, a choir,
I have no explanation, other than to describe this as
Miraculous.
There are some peculiarities re this train,
It sometimes labels a car behind you as a follower,
Now this is accurate perhaps with respect to GPS,
But I call them readers, fellow travelers,
As we exchange loads of words, and then leadership,
As I move on, another comes up to the forefront,
Baton passed.
This train of poems, one grasping the poem right behind,
While another poet grabs the first and sends him forward,
In motion, unceasing, powered not by wind or petroleum,
But an energy of spirit human which cannot be consumed,
For with every baby, a new poet and poem born.
So let me correct an error of mine,
This train is not just poetry in motion,
But perpetual poetry in perpetual motion.
Should I fall by the wayside, lose a step in my stride,
Whatever I have given, here remains, to be carried forward,
By you, by new carriers, by new poets, new countries,
That have yet to speak their words, say their
Peace.
So here
I close this loop, throw this on top of the
Coals already in place.
With words of another,
Who said it simpler, said it better,
Let it be.
This took awhile to write, so let us call it the last poem of the day.
