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Story Poem, Nr.14 — Rail-Track

On the left rail, prayer;  
on the right rail, emerging history.  
At the vanishing-point they meet - maybe.  
The reality-train travels the track  
straddling both sides  
and steams over the vanishing-point  
where the rails remain apart, equidistant.  
  
The engine-driver, shovelling coal,    
is not thinking of these things  
but of home - and dinner.  
Carriages full of passive passengers  
pass over the same spot    
blissfully unaware.  
What happens, happens.  
What doesn’t, doesn’t.  
   
As the train forges on  
compressed spark-particles flange off the steel wheels  
towards the centre-line, seeking freedom -  
discarded left-overs, they will be dissected  
by media-thugs mugging the narrative,    
by historians extruding favoured meaning.  
   
A bullet-train shoots by in the opposite direction  
carrying repressive ideologies,  
its bow-wind shuttering reality.  
Struggling flowers, buffeted on the rocky embankment  
curse their luck - and pray for better karma,  
next time.  
   
 
Written by Josh (Joshua Bond)
Published | Edited 9th Mar 2024
Author's Note
(photo credit: dale-nibbe-jXg42CXKyOg-unsplash)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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