Avoiding the shadows, the haunters of night,
and gravitating towards the light,
I am saved.
A rumbling tsunami of energy
rattles, creaks, rolls to a halt
at the opposite platform.
Moving vestibules to a journey's end;
life lived, momentarily, in a tubular world.
For a moment
the caw of the birds remind you:
'Enjoy this trice,
the fresh air,
this place in time.
Waiting.'
An endless stopover
ends too soon.
Rattling, creaking and rolling
it comes to a halt
at this platform.
A sudden rush. Panic.
Hearts beating fast.
You walk towards the shadows
to live in a tubular world, for a while.
Literary killings: I am literally penning a poem every week for a year. Inspiration is taken from various poets (see labels on each poem).
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