The toy train's wheels spin
the tales of forgotten places,
Their rhythm is like a lullaby
for the wanderers like me.
I leaned against the window,
and my eyes were tracing the night,
As the innocent city lights
thus fade into absolute obscurity.
Is it the subtle journey
or the arrival that matters?
The answer lies in the spaces
between the lone stations,
Where moonlight kisses rooftops
and whispers the holy secrets.
I've left behind the known;
the predictable hum—
For the promise of uncharted rails.
In this steel cocoon
that hurtling through darkness,
I become an alchemist of memories.
I mix fragments of yesterday
with the vivid dreams of tomorrow,
Stirring them into the potion of possibility.
Is it the subtle journey
or the arrival that matters?
The constellations my companions,
Each one is a celestial storyteller.
Orion recounts battles
which were fought across eons,
While Cassiopeia weaves
the unforgettable tales
of eternal love and vanity.
Is it the subtle journey
or the arrival that matters?
My suitcase just holds
more than clothes and trinkets;
It carries the weight of expectations!
In its corners, I've tucked;
fragments of identity,
Ready to be rearranged
at the next desired platform.
The harsh whistle's and voice
crackles over the intercom,
Announcing stations
like the cryptic riddles.
I listen for clues
amidst the syllables and echoes,
Wondering if I'll find myself
or lose more within!
Is it the subtle journey
or the arrival that matters?
Beyond the window,
darkness stretches over horizon;
A canvas for dreams
and unanswered questions.
I imagine landscapes
waiting to be painted,
Mountains rising,
rivers winding
and the forests breathing!
Is it the subtle journey
or the arrival that matters?
Perhaps it's the anticipation—
the heartbeat—
As the train hurtles toward dawn.
Or maybe;
it's the quiet surrender to uncertainty,
Knowing that every mile
brings me closer to both.
And so, I ride these uncharted rails,
Seeking solace in the rhythm of wheels,
Embracing the mystery
of destinations unknown,
For in this journey,
I find pieces of myself.
Is it the subtle journey
or the arrival that matters?
