Grand Central Terminal: Vernal Equinox Section 29

So close to midnight and so close to home, time jumps from off of the rails of memory to marry fortune, hops and detours into imagined sidetrack of nostalgia; soft place of safety away from streets of danger.

Grand Central Terminal: Vernal Equinox Section 28

Gold glow opening up the dark, still rolls it by, to smear its shouting whistle whine over the darkened shadowed land; red piercing blooming headlamp shown behind looming nearness of the outside gray.

Grand Central Terminal: Vernal Equinox Section 27

In the kettledrum shakings of steel track rails, small anger precedes along apace in these wild rabid clatterings, in the screech, in stuttered shuttering; in the push and sudden pull of cars' train wheels. 

Grand Central Terminal: Vernal Equinox Section 26

Sounding scraping loud, train wheels state their distinct aspiration to be rooted deep upon track rails, hard travelling in the dark. Distance dispenses within the screams of an engine pulling unwilling cars.

Grand Central Terminal: Vernal Equinox Section 25

Train cars tight-linked concatenated by chains of destiny, curves abound around them keeping needed distant rails away; each cab, in danger leaning over far, fast speeds through the black escape of night.

Grand Central Terminal: Vernal Equinox Section 24

Their brief glances from train windows are taken slyly; their blank faces peering out from behind those unwashed dirty panes upon blighted desolation of longing planes, level, flat, featureless, devoid of life.

Grand Central Terminal: Vernal Equinox Section 23

From far back, standing silent and still, behind the astonished congregations of the living, this smiling, the uninvited guest, at the wedding of hope and desire; at the switched crossing of life's rails is Death.

Grand Central Terminal: Vernal Equinox Section 22

Look up and live. Decry this darkness here below. Spare your speech. Hazard your life. Smoking black in a bleak night, the engine of your destruction, wheels turning without mercy, relentlessly travels on.

Grand Central Terminal: Vernal Equinox Section 21

Is it just this that serves to so soil the brain with the anomaly of detour, in a sidetrack of the mind? The hesitation of blues; that vacancy of sound repeated to a hidden music separated, distant from the soul?

Grand Central Terminal: Vernal Equinox Section 20

Charmed by movement and by desire, want for a lavender moon in a purple sky, with thick clouds billowing in pink saffron; instead of the black pervading night devoid of even one disarming light.

Grand Central Terminal: Vernal Equinox Section 19

Force of promise, force of hope, set in a distant distance blinking, some small tight light lifts its hood covering, shows a spot-white flame, off and on; stability there upon the far smooth breaking horizon.

Grand Central Terminal: Vernal Equinox Section 18

Wandering winds, your breezes blowing strong, skipping in motion, straying outside of time, out about upon your mobile stepping, out on this dark night absent any moon; fly far away on your ambient ways.

Grand Central Terminal: Vernal Equinox Section 17

Train of life taking shaking swerve within ever bending arcs; in straight tangent of wheeled continuity that fluoresces in midnight time on determined track to final terminal, to its ending destination: death.

Grand Central Terminal: Vernal Equinox Section 16

There. Look. Streams of fire in the heavens make rivers of delight; braving those sparks of stars to force a shaking above us in the dark. Lay your head upon my shoulder and stare; just stare, in awe. 

Grand Central Terminal: Vernal Equinox Section 15

Sure and slow the curve of track circles out the iron family of these strung-lined cars in a continuous disappointment within its sinuous arc; so stand you up you favored few and look upon your mortality.

Grand Central Terminal: Vernal Equinox Section 14

Thoughts dive down; are cleaved to stare into their deepest stasis keeps, dungeons of the soul. Leap back into the well of your worry and into an indifferent light; into the long red shift, shaft of the past.