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"Train" and "Plane" is interchangable

Life, like a train, moves with various passengers.
Some stay for a little while, and some for very long.
Nonetheless, we all get off.

By now, from my seat, I’ve seen a thousand faces.
I’ve made so many friends, and some I wish I knew better.
Eternal, are our shared bonds

From this view, I have seen volcanoes not yet formed,
As well as oases, blank like Picasso’s canvasses.
Non-ending, our chances.

Not to say that all is blank, like new morning snow.
Plenty of Bunkers and Hospitals are in my stone view.
Repeating, as history.

I’ve watched many-a-loved one hop off our train.
I’ve learned that once they do, a new passenger comes to join.
Non-stopping, like factories.

There is no ticket man, aboard our beloved train,
Because we all know, that none aboard is a stowaway.
It’s beloved, and hated true.

Outside our window, we can see different places.
A thousand and one, which we departed and arrived, here.
Different to all, and not.

As humans we wonder where those who left have gone,
And where we might go, when the hooded one comes for us, too.
We’re together, and apart.

The children run up and down the isles, searching.
They look through the windows through eyes that are not their own.
Adults are adults, and scold.

Sought from jealousy, the adults harsh words to us.
Their eyes are sown to their faces, no fingernails can tear.
Children have misunderstood.

One illusion is that our train is moving far.
A thousand lands, and yet where we are and always have been,
Is the same and won’t yet change.

We all covet the birds, for seeing that they're free,
Creating false images of bars over large windows.
Yet another illusion.

The windows are film screens, and we, the directors.
When we hop aboard we’re told that we must be attentive.
We confuse it for balls and chains.

So for me and the rest, be the next to notice.
We can fly like birds on our trains that are so full with us.
Bars have never existed.

Don’t fly with me, but next to me as equal friends.
Into eternity, until we separate for good.
I’ll miss you my dear true friend.

For a parting gift, I’ll teach you a life lesson.
Another illusion, fore we are always full of them.
For good, is not forever.





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