Personal Journey

 

Eyes open to the slow unravel,
steel veins humming through the dawn of hills
each mile a flicker, each field a breath,
and thought, no longer chasing sleep,
rides the rhythm of rust and reverie,
where silence speaks of a destined dream.

The rails recite a hymn of distance,
soft syllables stitched in passing light -
awake, the mind no longer wanders,
it listens, it gathers, and it forgives,
as mountains move like secret guardians
in the dusk, folding gently into thoughts.

No destination echoes my name,
only the hush between stations screams
and breaks, a mirror in every stranger’s glance,
a truth in every fleeting town,
and somewhere in the blur of leaving
the self arrives, unannounced, and still
unknown.