My train rattles and shakes and bustles,
hundreds of souls
on journeyman escapades
mill and chatter a familiar buzz.
I sit cross legged
on dirtied carpet.
My photo of you,
treasure claimed from darkened home,
juts in view,
physical reminder of long past,
my compass of truth.
Viewed before actions,
before succumbing to drives that
involuntarily rise up,
begging to erupt from me.
Trust of the self rusted to
shattered metallic shavings,
any clasp would crumble.
Eyes squeezed while brain blank
the colours run away,
until I see that picture.
Rush and whirl,
auditorium packed to the gills,
and I am but one in the crowd.
Back to reality and
back to insanity and
back to the finality and
halt.
Eyes wide, mouth clenched,
chest tight.
Look at the picture, look at
the photo, look at the person,
look at the future and
forward. The train rattles
onwards and I follow suit.