The train

Far, far away a train calls
by lovely sounds of saxophone
and I don’t know if I follow its rail
or watch it fade in the horizon.

The doubt conquers me,
but one rare fact I know
– and I shall treat it like diamond:
I can’t board in my delusions
using choices of another.
All the weight of charcoal and iron,
whether it follows me like despair
or it leaves me like love,
will be mine, mine only – inevitable.

To which misplaced place it would take me
I do not know nor wish to discover,
although moving and trying are what
a true living man would do…
But is it?
For could not this place where I’d go
be somewhere I’ve been before
and I hitherto hated it with all my heart
but cannot remember?

All those thoughts about decisions,
could not make them altogether…
they could only create the fog,
the cold fog of thoughts that
sometimes invades my pity mind.

And the train faded alone,
along with its smoke and lovely sounds,
and I sat on the nearest bench.
The world was still there, indeed,
but nothing more,
for there is nothing.


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