Meditation for a Railroad Crossing

Time has not stopped,
But it has been detained.

The ringing of the crossing bells
And the rhythmic clatter
Of the rails
Both mark the measure of its
Prison sentence:
Unceasing, oblivious,
Syncopated
Sluicing
Of cells,

And this:

The flow of a day
Perforated
By a thundering arrow

Comprised of cars:
Flat,
Box,
Tank:

Their syllables
As square and regular
As the beat they keep.

i keep this beat, too:
My heart, my breath
Align themselves
With the biorhythms
Of this mighty
Yet somnolent
Beast.

And here am i,
Moving and still,
Inside and out,
Centered
And utterly
Lost to myself.

When the train is gone:

Nirvana!

The gates rise,
The bells cease,
And time flows freely
Through cleared arteries.

The geometric clutter
And clatter
Recede into infinity --

And i return to
The box,
Tank,
Flat cars
Of my day.

i ride time's rails
Toward my own
Point of parallax,

Glad to have known
This
Train
Of Moments.

--Mr. Gobley