The Train Of Thought

I disembarked the train of thought

and stepped into space

white, empty and grand,

the strain of a brain on my face.

The train chugged along,

hooting it’s horns,

begging me to get on,

I watched and stood still.

In the space,

I could breathe and feel free,

the train became smaller and quieter,

though I knew I would have to get on again,

hopefully less a hostage,

hopefully more serene.

A Buddha on the rails,

A fool in the driving seat,

a smile at my travails,

a shrug to where it takes me.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.