Some people travel on same train as we,
station meant to be one, but a twist I see.
It was meant to be same yet somehow,
Don't know when the script flipped or how.
The train slowed down midway through,
one held tea, the other - nothing to brew.
Traveller's with bags of rain and rust,
some dreams once shining, now layered in dust.
Both were meant for the same stop,
But destiny decided to swap.
What happened? What changed midway?
Did fate forget, or lose it's way?
Should I call it game of destiny,
or a riddle wrapped in irony?
Confused... I realise
Both ran the marathon life unveiled,
both refused to give up, yet at the end, one won.
Alas, one who fell was the one undone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem