I often feel a deep connection with railroad tracks. I see my life as those abandoned railroad tracks through the forest which I used to walk on to school everyday. Behind me the track stretches beyond a road and continues on with no point of origin in sight or reach; a path once traveled, holding perilous and unknown truths, which have been lost to haunted memories. The path endlessly sprawling before my eyes is unchangingly as lonely, empty, and deserted as the track I’ve traveled. Each new step leads toward an empty attempt at finding a purpose which doesn’t have existence here. Each step leading to one more step. Each track to more track. More empty, lonely, cold-rusted steel track. No point of origin. No point of destination, but that final one in which all tracks eventually lead; whether this track or the next step, or the next, or the next ten million. The train passed long ago and I am left here forever in its’ abandoned shadow.
Picture: “Foggy Morning Train Tracks to Indian Land NC” by G.H. Holt: https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghholt/; http://www.flickriver.com/photos/ghholt/popular-interesting/