Hooded, he searches restlessly for
the end of the line.
He wonders if it will be around the next bend,
but after a million curves and
a million miles,
he has lost count and
the odds aren’t stacked in his favour.
The journey isn’t what he expected.
The curves and twists are dizzying in their complexity.
He thought he’d be further at this
stage in life.
He thought he’d have gained a conductor’s hat;
instead, the caboose is overloaded with baggage
he can’t even begin to tag.
Hope doesn’t conduct well on rails.
Emptiness washes him out like a hollow horn echoing back
from the trees,
chugging with used and belaboured ‘I-thought-I-coulds’.
Is he on the right track?
Will he run out of steam?
Maybe, the next bend will clatter with revelation, illumination,
be a station to pull into.
Maybe what he searches for even in his dreams
will be around the next bend…