My hand falls upon the railing
as the train hurtles
at the speed of light,
or close enough.
-
Why should I,
an indigo child,
a dweller of the deep,
an opened mind,
commune with the mundane?
They laugh and joke with no idea
the pleasure they drain.
Corrupt souls bask in ignorance
under a sinful sun.
Me eyes close,
braced for a long journey.
-
They dart like crazed chimpanzees,
this way, and that way.
They leap the gap,
landing firm,
falling bags all over.
One stays back,
doors closing,
despair written on his face
like a weathered statue.
And I freeze,
sensing danger.
But fate is kind to those who Know.
The bird is free from the net
and takes off,
away,
away from me.
Truly blessed am I
by the angels.
| 
Email this Poetry
| 
Add to reading list
