391. Resolution

He balances on the edge and walks,

The rusted railroad tracks,

And as he teeters-on, he talks…

To himself (as no one’s there).

How had the tracks, which seemed so straight,

Led him to this place?

Where winds tipped his weight,

O’er the edge of no return.

It’s funny how one simple choice,

Leads us down a path;

And how easy it is to follow that choice,

To the brink, without a thought.

One step and then another more.

Our fates, by steps, are set;

And even if we wish for more,

We can’t go back or regret.

He balances on the edge and walks,

The rusted railroad tracks,

And as the wind strengthens, he talks:

“Oh how I wish I’d looked up!”

K. Aldaya, 3/31/17

Picture: Originally from Alamy; https://www.timeshighereducation.com/books/review-the-trolley-problem-mysteries-f-m-kamm-oxford-university-press#survey-answer

72. A Random Thought

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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.

K. Aldaya

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/