moth

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. __________________________________