The Train of Life (#NaPo_Wrimo)

Life’s but a train,

Halting on various stops and platforms;

Maybe only for a moment or for all eternity-

But isn’t time relative?

What is a moment to some, maybe an eternity to others

Like in love, or just before death


The inception begins with the first cry and kick-

Ends with the penultimate breath,

For the last breath is more of a desperate attempt;

To cling on to the fine line

That separates these two universal truths.


The second’s love-

Young, careless and carefree;

Though, in between comes the brief halt of infatuation.


The third is when the second fails-

A bitter bout of sadness and depression;

The most important stop yet.


Fourth is when your unsure hands grab the first job-

Like catching an irritating mosquito within your hands;

Only to be stung by it again, a necessary evil.


The fifth platform is marriage-

Goals and aspirations flying high;

Some get a platform of their choice; others are denied by.


Sixth brings midlife crises and children together-

A wave of confusion washes over you;

Whether to smile or cry, whether to cry or smile,

Or do both…


Finally, the seventh platform draws life to an end-

Idling it, stretching it around unnecessary lanes and turns;

Children growing like plants on fertilizers,

The only hope remains, is that the fertilizer must be good;

Better than good if possible, but that is what parents do,

Convert the good to better, better to best, impossible to possible.


The steam from the engine is slowly expended,

Emptiness replacing the coals, the fire readying itself-

To glow with utmost sincerity, one last time-

Blinding everyone around.

And that, my dear friends, is the penultimate breath, the last wave

Before you turn your back to the ocean and bid goodbye

To petty calculations and heavy thoughts,

Death must be peaceful, I wonder.

© Biswadeep

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