Train Ride

A brief contemplation of the afterlife while riding on a train.

I can’t sleep.

The guttural groans and creaking mechanics of the moving train keep my mind alive and antsy. I sigh and move uncomfortably in the stiff plastic seat. It does not help that the overhead lights flicker sporadically in constant dissonance.

I glance to my left at the rolling waves of darkness.  The window becomes the dream catcher of my swirling thoughts and piquant memories. My mind settles and I fall inside myself. How many midnight strangers mused at this same window, I wonder? Did their sentiments linger and cling to the framework, only to mix and mingle with my own? Or did they trail off into the abyss, only to meet their inevitable obliteration?

It all comes down to a question of life: is the self an immortal agent, or is everything worm fodder?

The lights blow out. 

All I can smell is old earth.