A blur. The train.

It never stops. It feels like it’s moving in circles but it’s not.

The train brings the past to the present and to the future.

It remembers and reminds.

It conquers and refines.

It is eternity.

But it is not.

It is mortality.

Yet it is not.

It is never and it is forever.

It is the poet’s woe

and the philosopher’s career

Ancestral yet newborn

They try to control it.

To reverse and rewind it.

To fast-forward and skip some stations

But this train has no human conductor.

It will go where it needs

Stop where it needs

And all those who have existed

Will bow to it