The train leaving the station.

Climbing atop the platform
bustling with traffic of passengers
going to and fro.

Of tourists with suitcases in hand and with bags brimming with goodies for friends and lovers.

Of the cletched hand of a child within a mother's hand.

Of those trains of thought that we just had within our grasp.
of those dreams that could change our world.

Of where those ideas could lead us if we would only listen.

A dominant man once stood among the crowds in Bethlehem and Cana and Capernum and Jerusalem.
Taking those trains from above. Going through tunnels of darkness. Emerging into the light.
Letting its passengers see a much better way to live.

Of a sunlit sky shining down at the edge of the platform.
creating shadows of opportunities for mankind.

Of those rhythymic patterns and echoes etched upon the quilts of time.
Marking a passageway for us to travel through.

Of the train in the distance
approaching ever so slowly.

Hearing the choo choo of the train as it slows to its stop.

The doors open
conductors step out to survey and guide the crowds going in and out of the train.

Slowly heading into the distance as the train goes out of sight
becoming smaller yet leaving behind it the plumes of white and black smoke.

Yet, let us listen to the conductor of our lives.

On the intercom of our life.,

How to live it better and to our fullest.