Passengers to the Sun

Running down the tracks I suddenly feel empowered by a sense of awe. When the train passed it was gone. Gave its place to terror and maybe a bit of a thrill. My essence is trapped inside my heart. I ramble on and on about the mystery, the symbolic, the metaphoric and what lies behind the curtain of lips. They talk nonsense. The essence is in the heart. Polar opposites united in a single light, squeezed into a moment of realization, a clear sight of not only reality but a perfect condition governed by a source of eternal life. These are the moments to live for, to dream in, to become lost in the haze of florescent magnum, infused into orange. Manipulated by no law and no limits. Eternal to the point of bliss. Is that from where we originated? Or was it a train station that ran its tracks straight to the moon. Arriving at the first destination would only be the beginning of the journey. I could see no further but I looked closely and freezed a moment when the train was passing. It said on the side: 

 'Passengers to the Sun'

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Some adventures. To live for.
"Or was it a train station that ran its tracks straight to the moon. Arriving at the first destination would only be the beginning of the journey. I could see no further but I looked closely and freezed a moment when the train was passing. It said on the side:
'Passengers to the Sun'"
In my time, I saw some wild and crazy things. Passengers to the sun. would be interesting destination. Thank you for sharing the entertaining tale.
Coyote