Life Is A Railway Track

Life is a railway track.
There’re trains moving swiftly,
And trains moving sluggishly.
On what seems to be
An unending journey.
Uncertain—
Though the rails appear
To meet near the horizon.
But will they meet?

 

There’re platforms for stopping
And reconsidering,
But it’s all about moving.
If you stop for too long,
You’ll become one of the
Goods trains, discarded.
Standing on derelict tracks,
Converting iron into its oxides.
It’s a shame, you see.
That’s not what you’re meant to be.

 

There’ll be bridges
Over large water bodies
And scary ditches.
There’ll be tunnels,
Long and dark, and times
When nothing will work out,
But you’ll have to move,
And you will.

 

There’ll be many tracks
Parallel to you at times,
But don’t hold that mirage too dear
Because they’ll all fade away,
And you’ll be left with
Just one by your side.
Hold on to that.
That too, however, will leave you
At times when you’ll need it the most.
At times when you’ll move through
Dense mountainous forests,
And dry deserts,
But fear not,
You’ll keep moving ahead.

 

There’ll be points
When other tracks
Will cross your way,
Will leave a mark,
And separate,
Never to meet again.
But that’s just how it works.

 

There’ll be times
When your track will branch
Into different paths,
And you’ll have to choose one.
I’m confused, however.
Am I the chooser?
Or the Station Master?
Is it really a choice,
Or a mere illusion of it?

 


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