Third class carriage,
hard seats but the train is clean, tugging along
stopping in tiny villages I didn’t knew existed.
A few people are getting off others joining.
Crates are loaded onboard together with bags of potatoes.
It’s getting dark on embankments
hardy weed look cold and thorny bushes shrink into their own misery.
The light in the carriage is bad
impossible to read
and it’s getting worse as the conductor dims it wanting us to sleep.
Wrap a travel blanket around me
it gives a sense of security and privacy,
my fellow travellers are closing their eyes sinking into their own world
and I wonder what they are thinking of?
Look out of the window
see my own face surrounded by darkness
and reflect upon the irony of our journey in life,
which leads into the eternal night.