On a train of what will be.
On a train, I stare out the window,
staring at creation,
Harmony, sustenance, without human interference,
in places without interruption.
Why does man interfere in Creation,
in the planned, of what must be?
Humanity driven like a river to its destination,
As if the one in the current had control of its’ own.
Why not just drift to where it leads,
instead of swimming upstream, of what will be.
