Terminal station

Sights are flashing by and out of the eyes

in wide angles they lay, in evening dreams

they will stay, as images fly away, so it streams

to the end, while melting into darkening skies

as the train on his way to the following day

and later there’ll be nothing more as it was

and fast, so terribly fast, no time for a pause

in the sound of a moaning there’s a little prayer

so close together and still chained in a lace

the shackles between them are not easy to break

in the shadows there’s a fluttering 

in the heart, in the breath there’s a final quake

the last stop, a ticket to buy, a resting place

on the end of a one-way street, we will wake.

© Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere

11/04/2015