The Ancient Train


Maybe in pain,
between loneliness
and unawareness,
naked and staring,

we shall sit—
immersed in memories,
slow and deformable
and nothing more—

on an ancient train
driven by fate,
between intuitions
and reflected images.

Maybe the wind
beyond the horizon,
beyond this world,
will dissolve us,

or God himself
will comfort our weeping,
turning into certainty
the ancient faith

or just one moment.
But the unhappiness will be filled
on that train
to a new beginning.

No one is ever alone while walking alone. Sometimes, reading the same expression on the face of someone who passes by, we discover how others are walking the same path as us. Everyone, alone, walks together, holding hands.