(When the body of a loco piolet is taken from his quarters, he makes a last whimsical look at his own life) .
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As my body passes the gate,
A long whistle is heard.
As I begin my last voyage,
A train is heard at a distance.
And out of my coffin
I peep unto the rising smoke.
Long forgotten years open their wings
And make unto me a fleeting dive.
Crossing the pastures of life
I steered my train thro’ countless seasons.
Standing at the helm of matchless distances
I brought home a whole generation.
And the rhythm of wheels was my life,
The rising steam was my very breathe.
With the flying meads I shared a song,
Unto the silent nights it was an endless prayer.
And crossing the rills and many hills,
Taverns and multitude Junctions,
I reached my last post,
I took my train to the safest shores.
Yes; that is the human life! It is foolish to fight and shout! Let us love and serve, helping ever hurting never!
Life is the train and Nirvana is the last junction....................Good Write..........
may be we will be unseen witness to what happens after we go..though sad...a lovely picture ot the train
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
lfe is journey and at cross time alway.. beautiful poem with clear message....10 read mine at cross road