| Pushkar Murthy |
USA
On Track A gentle lurch as the train pulls away.
Urban vistas flash by as if in a silent movie.
Accompanied by the rumbling of the wheels against the track.
Like a river transporting sediment.
Peoples' images imprinted on the windows.
Ghostly images without substance.
A parallel world. Or anti-parallel.
Hundred people aboard.
A hundred souls, a hundred stories, a hundred autobiographies.
Infinite thoughts.
Thoughts that emerge like a solar flare, a million miles high.
And disappear into nothingness the next instant.
Thoughts follow a random walk in the brain.
On this train.
People are physically much closer to one another
than they've ever been.
Yet they've never been more distant.
Like islands, surrounded by their individualities,
and occupied with their thoughts.
Swaying to the rhythmic motion of the train.
Contemplating an event past, and an event to be.
And the train threads through spacetime, connecting the two.
My meandering thoughts shall meander no more.
My stop has come.
© Copyright, Pushkar Murthy. |
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