The train of thought that never quite gets there,
Is perhaps more dangerous than the one arriving at the destination.
For as we travel along these tracks,
Paths can change,
And tracks will have to readjust.
Readjusting is dangerous you see,
Because when it is what it is,
Maybe it isn't quite that anymore.
The rigid metal that constrains the train,
Can change with a little persuasion.
As one travels down the path,
Moving along a set track,
Imagine molding that metal,
Imagine the wheels free...
And all that is,
May be only a fraction of what could be.
Lovely Jasmin. The spaces between our rigidity and fluidity are always precariously balanced snippits of time which sometimes define how easily our journeys can come to appear enigmatic.
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