light seems to breath,
dipping, diving, run to ground,
flickering shards catch surface,
brightness hanging on edge.
and with flicker of bulb,
moths to midnight moon,
deep autumn lightning,
rolling above our heads.
tracks rattle underfoot,
in motion forwards yet,
dew drops on spider webs,
like spring's morning still.
one station passes,
glimpse with window's speed,
we are not of that world,
a world we barely see.
caught glance across carriage,
intertwines the space,
solid connection through void,
then becomes our fate.
moments so short opened,
sliced with closing doors,
quiet but piercing ringing,
ghostly echo of passing before.
a thousand journeys fold,
endless commute in time,
as passengers or prisoners,
life to death, and back again.
