TRAINS IN THE DISTANCE

We are here to encompass so, so much. So much light, so much darkness. We stretch oceans in this endeavor. The pebbles on our ways reflect it, and the sunlight too, to blind us.

Sometimes with beauty.

...sometimes just blind.

We have mountains to climb.

Wander in worlds unknown to man, prior to their becoming. Prior to our becoming. Only alive by all things journey. And our own.

Indeed we are grand beings, holding all that is, within the depth of our souls. However unbeareable, we bear witness to the grandure of our capacities. The holding of it all. Holding on to nothing.

As soon as it is, it passes.

Cannot be retrieved anywhere other than perhaps in slight memory and an echo.

Silenced.

Always moving foreward. Even during the visits and visions of memory, of story.

So much to tell in the whispers of the night.

Nothing can be contained. Or ever held on to.

So it goes. Travels through.

Like trains crossing the wide stretches of a land and nature.

Monumental, powerful nature, a peace of unfiltered potential that’s beyond awe-inspiring.

Where horizons melt in the distance, and wash both heaven and earth into unison.

Reminding us of the grandure of our being and life.

Washing over us with the clearity, that's given only by the recognition of peace recognising itself.

Claiming itself and its children eventually.

Until only the echos of trains in the distance remain.

And the silence of our grand selves.