Reveries

Like a train slithering into the darkness through longing patches of paddy
Here a familiar sight, there darkness,
The only certainty is motion;
When movement has become the reason and not the means

The darkness an uncertainty of possibilities
And not the simple fluid invisibility that it usually is

Its a caravan out there, its a riot of colors, its empty space out there
Its this face at the window, that voice through the wind,these hands on my lap

And piercing through all these,

The train whistling, piercing the night into two..