Railroad tracks, rusty brown and unending; they stretch
silently and motionless before my eyes.
On and on toward the horizon going nowhere and everywhere as
they disappear into the distance.
Railroad tracks are as mysterious and unknown as life itself;
stretching onward seemingly without end.
Life, like railroad tracks;
has its way-points, emergency stops and final destinations.
Some are just
intermediate stops which may offer rest; while others signal a journeys end.
Ultimately we all book passage and our choices create the
route that is taken.
Some routes are slow and scenic and others are quick and
wrought with woes.
However, the choice may or may not be our own volition; as fate is a
cruel villain who waits beyond each bend.
Written by Mark R. Day 6/8/15. Copyright by Mark. R. Day 6/8/15, all rights reserved.
"One of a number of poems that was written in Old City Cemetery on 5/8/15. This one was inspired as I sat on a hill looking at the Norfolk Southern Railroad track, which runs behind the cemetery."
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