Travel
The sands pass under a bridge built to span a dried up river bed
The farms with their workers, slaving away under the afternoon sun, whiz by
We pass through cities and towns full of people, leading lives completely separate from mine
And I feel all the more alone for not being able to share these thoughts with you
Night passes by in heavy darkness, speckled by the distant lights of houses Whose occupants have long since passed the threshold of consciousness
As a mother rocks the cradle, the train rocks each passenger to sleep,
And I drift away, wishing I could wrap my arms around you and envelop myself in your scent
The days pass by in a rather mellifluous haze
I pass the time in my usual escapes of reading or virtual reality
They create the illusion of time passing more quickly. Bringing my journey closer to its end, and returning me to the warm embrace of your loving arms
It strikes me, that travel is indeed a metaphor for life
For what are we but eternal souls, voyaging through life in the transient vehicles of our bodies
It strikes me, that I should appreciate the journey more, for
Regardless of the goal, we all reach the same end
By this time however, I have been reunited with you, and my soul rests from its sojourn once more.
