The world doesn't end here even if it seems it must, this flight taken to escape the past, a brief respite tomorrow won't stop, not yet. not soon, but go on and on like a train bound for some final destination with many stops still to make, some pleasant, some not, we linger at those we like the most and hurry on from those we don't; we bought this ticket and must ride it until our fare expires, the rails roaring under us, through dark tunnels, across Great plains, and when we pause, we fear we might not see the wheels in motion again, this train we chose to ride, goes well beyond where we might eventually arrive, and among us, next to us, seated here and seated there, fellow travelers, some with ill intent, most benign, some we come to love or hate, who we see off, here or there as we go on, as we must, alone clutching our ticket with the hope the ride won't end too soon
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