Next Stop

I always dream I chase a train station

As if my life depended on the ride

Hoping the next stop is a safe haven

But knowing the narrow tracks are no guide

This isn’t the Polar Express of dreams

Nor a fable or tale with one and friends

This is a dream of freedom by all means

Praying that the next stop is the end

I always dream of open carts and platforms

Yet still, see the towering buildings aglow

As if history is the centre line where all that falls upward

Into buildings outside of what we know

Because time has caused us to go backwards

Not knowing which way is up and which is down

Incepting isolation with every light bulb

Until train tracks and empty footsteps are the only sound