Picture: Train Traveller by Sarah Quandt
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Strings and strings of rain
Sewn into the fabric of the night.
Mist among the trees
And feeble human lights.
A scent beyond description
Speaks of tales long gone:
The aircraft, the attendant and people going home.
Each drop calls to my thirst,
I observe the urge,
Acknowledge my desire,
With eyes of curiosity
And the smile of a traveller.
There is a conscious passage
Between existence and experience.
Remember, oh please, remember:
This is nothing but a playground.
No matter the game you’ve chosen,
You’re a viewpoint of the One Consciousness
You are the One Consciousness,
Indestructible,
Having fun with Itself,
Through myriads of lens,
A mosaic of frequencies.
Such a beautiful show, with fireworks and all!
Such a privilege to witness the dream,
To sleep and awake…
Now,
Take a deep breath with me.
In and out, once more…
Is there anything else but this very moment?
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Herons
