Close your eyes
No really
You see a wheat field
All gold and flowing
It is a beautiful day
The sun is bright without being hot
The breeze is reassuring without being cold
The sky is blue, just blue
You are standing on a set of train tracks
And in front of you is a train
Your train
And it's going to take you away
Towards something else
Anything else
Towards something good
Can you feel the stars aligning?
Walk up to that train
Can't you feel them shining?
It's starting off
Can't you feel the rumble of movement
Of things in motion
Faster and faster
You smile and run
You run after your train
And you reach out to grab that rail
Your fingers are so close
You can almost feel the bite of the metal
Almost hold it in your hand
But honey...
Open your eyes
If you could catch up to a train
Would you even need one in the first place?
Even if you miss it by just two inches
Did you really think you could make it to heaven?
I mean I guess
Well I guess I hope so
As a kid
I thought it was so profound
The double edge sword of how
Soaring heights seem to necessitate the ground
At times I even said
All by myself aloud
Surely even dark is good
If it means light is around
But what I didn't know
While I was marveling at dichotomies
At overly balanced forces and the physics of ethical fallacies
Is that life has a price that is bound to be too steep for me
A dreamer
A spirit seer, future clear, misty eyed, spooky far-sight believer
Built to see what could be
And subsequently cursed with the reality of neither
Imagine being a little boy
Reaching for trains that are no longer toys
Always hearing that rumbling noise
And gravel kicking up on your feet
and disrupting your voice
Let that green light shine
Little fingers reaching for the glory of divine
And even less
Just hoping to close mine
Around the rusty black handle
Of that train car sign
It's hard it seems
In the liminal spaces
Connecting the dots all while others erase them
And feeling like a fool as they watch while you chase them
Honey you aren't catching a train on this pavement
But stretch me, Father stretch me please
Let me be a hand to all of those that might need
A last gasp
A slow fall
A light breeze
Hope doesn't have to be all skinned knees
But I'm choking on it
On the possibilities
And this feeling that I'm being left
Forever losing my
Peace
It's a bleak world isn't it
But bleaker when you're speaking on the things you wish didn't miss
It's obvious
Either a field of gold
Or the squeaking of a train car's starting up whistle can hold
Bliss
Yet peeking out from under dust and mist
We can make out all the miserable grunts of old Sisyphus
In this place we've got the trinity hand over fist
The holy gold, the departing father, the outreaching soldier dismissed
Every one of them a journey, a moment, a tryst
Every one of them locking us up in hope's endless kiss
And she's a bad bitch isn't she?
To stretch you out between satisfaction, your dreams, and belief
Some days I think she's someone we all should meet
Other mornings it's all good luck, good bye, hit the street
And as I watch all that sunlight up and leave
I find a crispy new note pinned from her sleeve
Saying...
A bottle of poison is drawn from the well
Titled Hope
Into which many bodies have fell
It's a dangerous tongue
That would seek out the rungs
Of a ladder of liquid leading not where they're from
Because hope is a pit just like safe is high
In a world where just hitting good enough of is fine
Be careful to strive
For the poison of dreams
Will leave you un-whole
Yet surely alive
So is hope a speeding train to nowhere
Is it a beautiful day promising fortune and fanfare
Is it simply the willingness to reach as you fall?
Or is it last night's partner leaving a note that says it all...
Is hope a rock pushed up a hill
Knowing it will fall back down as soon as you will
Or is it just facts like the birds and the bees and the tingle up your spine when you wanna say please
Is it something like love
Or is it faith baked in a cake with icing over reason and cherries on top of mistakes
Is hope a fleeting thing with wings
Or an old hodgepodge of oft deferred dreams
Is it
The last gasp of a silent night's scream
Is it pounding on the door just hoping you can leave
Is it
Somebody new
is it
Buried in greed
Does it even have anything to do with whether I doubt or believe
Is it
the way to be great
Or is it thrust upon me
Either way I'm getting sick of this scene
No train goes to where that train sends
And every day meets a beautiful day's end
All that's left with is our hopeful little friend
Stuck between matches and the tind-
(for those reading not hearing this, a mic pop cuts off the word tinder)
Sorry for that being so abrupt
Sometimes you hit the ground running
And sometimes you hit the ground,
Running
And I haven't figured out which one I'm doing yet
