Pulling In

The Conductors words resonate within. “Next stop for . . .” and then your name is announced.

As the train slows, you look out the window at your ‘stop’ with increasingly extreme concern.

A decayed skeleton of an oasis, void of water. Trick mirrors further disguise what reality remained. Everything mentally illegible.

Outside, a gnawed bone. The winter of confusion. Standards of imagination at their lowest levels. Mirages of depression and deception.

Silent prayers – unable to be formulated.

Was the train on the wrong track? Were you on the wrong train?

There’s a seat on the other side of the train – forever close. You move to it and sit down. Looking out that window you catch a glimpse of your reflection.

The train doesn’t stop.

Published by Kumi

Liaison to the Infinite.

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