The train sits at the station,
waiting for a passenger,
looking for a destination,
and will do so with the patience of any saint...
... until there is a reason.
What constitutes a reason?
Is it something to believe in?
Is it the fact that there is nothing ever proven?
Then those wheels start their rolling...
and with each new revolution,
may come another revelation,
and it gets just a little closer to where it's headed.
The problem seems to be that no matter
where you lay the track...
it always has a tendency to bring you right on back
to the place where you began!
I like the imagery in this one. Reminds me of the little train that could. Hugs, dee
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well written Barry You expressed tour feelings well