seraphemera (seraphemera) wrote,
seraphemera
seraphemera

trains go by

here one can hear the trains go by
in the middle of all hours of the night
when we have shaken off the slumbers that do not suit
for dreaming is not our key

instead these streets will be tread
down by the heels of the boots that we wear
in search of that which we tried to forget
ad infinitum although we claimed to seek memory

there is no place to avoid that which we know
the voice, that is our own, that speaks
reminds us that there is a journey set forth in our soles
and no hiding in marriages, jobs, friendships, will relieve us
of this task

somehow, though, in this stretch of time that seems
disjointed and convoluted, amiss and unresolved, barren and cold
the few remaining who hear only their own voices
chatter quietly in the winter of the soul of the world

let us come together then and find our way from here
leave a testament or three so that others may be inspired
(though hopefully not tricked into believing that by following
toe by tow in line with our faces they, too might reach liberation
before they are even free)

in this resolve, these days of petulance are numbered
and the turning of the face back toward the east is nigh
yet there is no satisfaction in watching the winds sweep through
simply the knowledge of the fact of what is to be
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