Sometimes, I wonder when I lay in bed,
if everytime I hear a train whistle
I’ve died and been born again.
Hollow sound passes, driven by night
when all querulous minds are still
sharply awake, tunneling me in layers.
Only God knows where I am going.
Sometimes, I wonder when I lay in bed,
if everytime I hear a train whistle
I’ve died and been born again.
Hollow sound passes, driven by night
when all querulous minds are still
sharply awake, tunneling me in layers.
Only God knows where I am going.
I love the tunneling me in layers, so like the train’s presence in our minds! The wonder at a destination is so connected, so real. Good work!
& a tornado that sounds like a train makes its own tracks…
soothing piano
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