The Train

The nights were long
And cold
And in between
They saw empty eyes. . .

The eyes.
Empty eyes
Staring from plastic
A mirror of the
A tale
Of the outside.

The outside,
A painting
Of rhythm
In deepened black
And shattering
Spasms of
Blue incandescent

I sway,
And sway
To the drone
Of buzzing silence.
So many stories
Caught in muted faces,
Crashing together
In the storm
Of the unseen sea.

© Elven Lore 3/1/98