The Train

The Train

I hear the train

I feel the train

Thunder, rumbling beneath my feet

The horn declaring

I bring you goods

I bring you progress

Progress is good, isn’t it?

It built America

 

I hear the train

More quiet now

It has moved on into the distance

While I sit here on this bench

Waiting

Somewhat intrigued

Somewhat saddened

 

I hear the thunder of our ancestors

But it only lingers

So far out in the distance

A sound deep in the recesses of my soul

 

I am shocked out of the moment

Ripped back into the present

Thrown onto the concrete sidewalk

With nary a speck of compassion

 

The train has returned

Swallowed me up in deafness

Blowing its horn right in my ear

I don’t think I have anything to fear

Except for the fruits of perdition

 

And now that I cannot hear anything

Anything but the ringing and noise

I go about my typical day

Seeking out my typical toys

Thankful for what the train did bring today

To help me get through the mire,

To help me get through the fray

 

Still there is a thunder in the cacophony

 

I must be still enough to hear it

To feel it

To know it

 

One cannot simply rip a redwood

Right up out of the ground

 

I know that sound…

 

 

 

 

 

(Train Photo via Google Image, CNN.com, unknown photographer)

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