Vivid reds streak across the sky
Burning oranges lap at the edges
of the thin lines of pale blue
that merge into bands of
sultry, shadowy purples and violets
the flaming sun orb is now out of sight
yet its emissaries seem to follow
even as the train speeds away
in the opposite direction-
toward the darkened dome of heaven
flecked with glinting, silvery dots
like bits of glowing confetti
After a party-
the end of another day.
The train is followed by another body
more discrete
but stern in the beauty of its cold, milky light
commanding awe
as it presides over the affairs of the dark
making sure that obscurity is kept in check-
the beginning of the night.
The streetlights awake,
while somewhere the first lightbulb comes to life
the streets continue to bustle with commuters-
the last shoppers,
day workers homeward bound,
friends out for a sit down at the corner café,
nocturnal laborers on their way to the grind.
The club hoppers and other night time species
will soon appear on the scene,
but it is too early for that yet.
The train keeps going,
its passengers ride on,
some in a hurry to reach their destination,
others a bit apprehensive,
still others sit indifferent-
this is routine,
Just a trainride is all.
Small towns and villages fly by
life passing life
one going at the regular pace,
the other gliding on in fast forward.
So many parallel stories,
the plots running along similar lines
but never intersecting
As evening shrouds the land
I find it funny how
each character in the great novel of the world
could experience the exact same thing
in so many different ways.
