Thursday, October 20


It was a dirty day in little Switzerland,
unreal for a country that hates dust.
The trains were still on time, they always are
but the tick tock of my inner clock failed to synchronize

I wonder if trains have consciousness, do they know what they deliver from A to B or Z?
do they know that boring Basmati rice is traveling in my bag and only spices,
preferably from south-western Thailand will save the day?
The trick of moving on is not speed but pace

The life I live in is unstoppable
and I see images flying by through windows
where greasy spots blur the imagery, left by an innocent child
who was searching for a clear view and the truth

But I can close my eyes, ignore everything around me
and listen to the pounding of my heart, are you still there?
The train rattles along and whispers sweet nothingness as answer
an other disappointment,  a ride without purpose

Then came the moth who shunned the light and sat on my knee
I looked at that thing and had to think about you, I don't know why
I was imagining how it would be, if we could share a stretch
maybe not from A to Z, perhaps from B to L - does it matter? Yes it does - at least for me.

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