The Train
I hear the train
I feel the train
Thunder, rumbling beneath my feet
The horn declaring
I bring you goods
I bring you progress
Progress is good, isn’t it?
It built America
I hear the train
More quiet now
It has moved on into the distance
While I sit here on this bench
Waiting
Somewhat intrigued
Somewhat saddened
I hear the thunder of our ancestors
But it only lingers
So far out in the distance
A sound deep in the recesses of my soul
I am shocked out of the moment
Ripped back into the present
Thrown onto the concrete sidewalk
With nary a speck of compassion
The train has returned
Swallowed me up in deafness
Blowing its horn right in my ear
I don’t think I have anything to fear
Except for the fruits of perdition
And now that I cannot hear anything
Anything but the ringing and noise
I go about my typical day
Seeking out my typical toys
Thankful for what the train did bring today
To help me get through the mire,
To help me get through the fray
Still there is a thunder in the cacophony
I must be still enough to hear it
To feel it
To know it
One cannot simply rip a redwood
Right up out of the ground
I know that sound…
(Train Photo via Google Image, CNN.com, unknown photographer)
Songs From the River 