Passing...

Passing…

My life’s like a train where I thread my way through upheaval mountain range and journey beyond the peaceful meadows. A repetitive route I pursue in endless need to see a greater world beyond where I’m bounded for. More often than not, I am confined to my pre-destined route. I pondered. I stopped. I rested. I began.

Passengers board and alight along my journey. Some stayed longer. Some barely. Some left lasting memories. Some were left forgotten.

Dreamers and the doers. The window gazers and the talkers. Which of these could have looked at me from the inside-out?

Dreamers are always dreamers.

Doers the loving? Or Doers the hurtful? Some spilled coffee and left timeless stains. Some toyed with my flesh as they spliced open the seats with their pocket knives. Some seats were sewn back by the dreamers and the loving Doers. But some were left forgotten.

Attentive Doers and dreamers hide the scar and the scar was left to be forgotten. Playful Doers and dreamers sealed the wound but overlooked the scar. Scarred neither by the loving nor the dreaming.

The passing and the trespassers. Which are you?