Train Station

The doors slide open to engulf me

in a yawning concrete pit

Someone rushes past me

running, in such a hurry.

What’s with the rush, I say

The elevator’s empty.

Escalators moving on their own

The trains will come eventually

There’s no need to hurry

A little late is acceptable.//

 

The going down is silent

Not a person in sight.

Except for the one who went first.

I descend into the shallow bowels

of the earth encased in slabs

of marble and concrete and technology.

A person in the ticket booth

A cleaner bent on his job

Tucked in that corner’s a man.

A police man, no doubt.

No rush, no sound, then a rumble

That giant snake I call the train comes far below!

I walk down the moving stairs,

Aye, and the descend is even drearier

 

On that platform the place is deserted

except for a very few

We are spaced out, scattered

Only united by that one single goal

To ride into the flow of life

and go on with it

to wherever we need to go.//

 

Alighting the train, I find my seat

My nook in the corner, far from prying eyes

or clutching the cold posts

or balancing on two balls of my feet

Sometimes the track is in a dark tunnel, 

never knowing where it leads

Sometimes the view is stunning

and the path is crystal clear

 

And I find myself floating, 

in the here and there, and no more

no use staring at the tracks passed by

or of the station we’ve left behind

Onwards we go, and so must we

The train keeps on moving

And it goes back, on a loop

on a loop

back and forth

goes in both direction.

Oh there’s my stop!

 

 

 

 

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