The Express

 

 

The Express

An idea arises, curious, it is believed
The whistle blows, steam arises, hissing
Immense effort, the weight of thought is moved
lays down tracks, slowly gains momentum

A world is born, imagined, accelerates
A vastness of details spin, blurring into one
uncontrollable speed. Shaking, mesmerising movement
Where is the destination, here, over there?

Was it ever there?
It seemed to pass through giving way to another
imagined station, grander, more desirable,
further along the track that never ends

Attempt to examine the track, the past is gone
out of sight, left to a false recollection
The future unknown, left to imagination
Look on ideas, they are single, one distraction

Along for the ride, sit back, taken by the carriage
This carriage, is it real or imagined?
Now is a junction, one track ahead, one soaring
To go on faster, blurring into painful oblivion of uncertainty?

Watch the wheels turn, going nowhere
The train is gone, steam vapourised, disappearing
Disappearing, lifted away. Away into stillness
Spacious vastness. Silent now.

Jackie, July 2014

 

steam train