October 2 by The Running Son
¤¤ runaway traiภ ¤¤
And the cycle begins again,
sin to supplication, sorrow to elation.
Again, the same train leaving
a similar station boarding similar people,
needy and impatient, ego satiated
and asleep in some spacious
dream-scape, needing to be needled
awake by a steam engine at full bake,
loose steering, no caboose, bad brakes.
Rail cars shake. Steam clouds break.
by Jim Aldrich (:
.namaste. -• ö.tH(ink)Mÿstiç •- .namaste.