From the last remaining few feet of the end of the final car, the caboose, I watched as the sky painted me a song of utter friendship as it glided inwardly into a final point of this my conical perspective.
WHERE ARE YOU GOING? I screamed at the plumes of black smoke that trailed rearward from the stacks so many cars ahead.
To where you have been... It seemed to respond. To clean-up the clutter I made and to right the wrongs I've instilled on those that've passed me by.
The smoke filtered into the blue turning grey as it melted away.
HAVE YOU NO FAITH IN ME?
HAVE YOU NO BALANCE?
NO BLINDFOLD?
NO ROBE?"
The sky continued its travel, as it always will, rolling backwards as if I'm the one slowly moving away from it in this my life-moving-forward-all-to-quickly solitary existence.
No comments:
Post a Comment