Long Train Running


At the station where people come and go
There in the silence of an empty room
Looking outwards into the western glow
An old man comes in with a big long broom

The old man begins to give the floor a sweep
Removing waste and trinkets left behind
By people looking for places to sleep
Somewhere to rest the body and the mind

When the dust has been put safely away
He takes his place on an expectant seat
To the world he has nothing left to say
But this is something he likes to repeat

In his mind's vision two bright angels come
They take the broom and place the golden crown
On the king of the lonely travellers' kingdom
Whose laws on magna carta he writes down

All things come soon enough to those who will wait
With a confirmed booking on the right berth
But then we must all pass through the same gate
Though destiny will hold none at the same worth

It's better to travel than to arrive
Observing how the plains and mountains move
Keeping still letting not the senses deprive
Themselves of tidbits which the eyes do approve

As he grows a smile the red sunset shines
The last light on all the day's deeds' cunning
The murmuring of deals to which this life binds
Mutes by the wheels of that long train running

Lucignano, 1 1 2007