Poetry

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We're passersby in this Universe
this Earth
we're not here to stay.
Yet some people live
as if this were home.
Like decorating a train platform
while all around people rush madly
coming and going
and some never returning.
They make themselves comfortable
with all sorts of amusements and toys.
As if to say, "Came from nowhere,
Going nowhere...might as well have fun."
Yet they will board a train--
at the end of day
when the Conductor comes around
they'll remember that ticket in the pocket.
And he'll help them clamber up--
but they won't know the train
or where they're bound.

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