Journey
Sometimes (often) my sleeper train
of thought takes me on long complicated journeys involving emergency stops and
breakdowns. Usually I am lost in a strange place and can't find my way home
although I know that I know it. Or rather knew it.
Sometimes it goes on
journey's down disused branch lines ending at crumbling platforms thick with
weeds and the ruins of old waiting rooms, haunted by the ghosts of long dead
station masters and ticket collectors with myself and my own ghosts the only
passengers.
Or the tracks run
alongside the sea or a river that
floods, rising waves come in and wash me away.
On all these journeys fear is
my companion and a state of constant confusion.
Othertimes and less often a
short journey of maybe a few stops to somewhere planned. Through the window in
the distance the mist clears and rays of sunshine break through.
Always my waking trains of
thought take me back to that last goodbye, and all the things I never knew how
to say but wanted to.
