Chained_Water
15-02-08, 03:54 PM
Train track,
We flow, we don’t chug,
We gently jerk from side to side,
We almost fly,
Movement goes from fast, to slow on the horizon,
Whats further away stays with us longer,
Its impression is stonger,
It creates our landscape,
What’s closer just fades,
There’s never clarity,
All detail and meaning lost in blurred motion,
I digress on the scenary that’s stamped -
In my eyes, on my mind,
I travel backwards, facing the past,
So vast,
I fly through but I'm so still,
I barely hear announcements or see the signs,
Instead I’m lost completely in this journey of mine,
People board and alight at different stages,
So many faces and intersecting lives,
I inspect them from the corners of my eyes,
I wouldn’t like my own sight anymore,
So I avoid reflections in windows and doors,
Reflect on valleys and moors,
The strangest trees I’ve ever seen,
All the shades of grey and green,
The way that they merge,
Heaviness surges,
The air is so thin outside,
Cities choking under cloudy skies,
Nothing’s really loud in the scheme -
Of things the world is full of silence,
And stillness,
We’re little vibrations on some parts of the surface,
We’re atomic and yes like the bomb,
We’re just dying with pomp,
Real movement is in trees,
The winds in the leaves the world over,
Train tracks,
A window to the world,
A gallery of maladies –
We’ve unleashed,
And the cure in the uninhabited peace,
The blackest blackness I’ve seen,
Vast spaces splayed so far,
White birds and they’re not flying,
Is joy dying?
Where am I going in these cold winds,
What’s to be found there at the end,
All I see anywhere is branches and leaves,
Eyes comforted, cool, fooled.
We flow, we don’t chug,
We gently jerk from side to side,
We almost fly,
Movement goes from fast, to slow on the horizon,
Whats further away stays with us longer,
Its impression is stonger,
It creates our landscape,
What’s closer just fades,
There’s never clarity,
All detail and meaning lost in blurred motion,
I digress on the scenary that’s stamped -
In my eyes, on my mind,
I travel backwards, facing the past,
So vast,
I fly through but I'm so still,
I barely hear announcements or see the signs,
Instead I’m lost completely in this journey of mine,
People board and alight at different stages,
So many faces and intersecting lives,
I inspect them from the corners of my eyes,
I wouldn’t like my own sight anymore,
So I avoid reflections in windows and doors,
Reflect on valleys and moors,
The strangest trees I’ve ever seen,
All the shades of grey and green,
The way that they merge,
Heaviness surges,
The air is so thin outside,
Cities choking under cloudy skies,
Nothing’s really loud in the scheme -
Of things the world is full of silence,
And stillness,
We’re little vibrations on some parts of the surface,
We’re atomic and yes like the bomb,
We’re just dying with pomp,
Real movement is in trees,
The winds in the leaves the world over,
Train tracks,
A window to the world,
A gallery of maladies –
We’ve unleashed,
And the cure in the uninhabited peace,
The blackest blackness I’ve seen,
Vast spaces splayed so far,
White birds and they’re not flying,
Is joy dying?
Where am I going in these cold winds,
What’s to be found there at the end,
All I see anywhere is branches and leaves,
Eyes comforted, cool, fooled.