Time, Flying


How are you? we ask. Busy, we reply.

The word becomes meaningless, relays nothing. Are you content with your life? What are you reading, or dreaming?

We pass one another like blurred trains.


This pace of life, the multi-tasking, the demands of work at mid-career – isolate us from on another. When I’m this busy, time moves at warp speed. When it stops, I feel lonely, as though I’ve landed at an abandoned train station.

Where did the hour go? Where did the month go? Where did everyone go?


Words, images, metaphors fly at me like birds against a plate glass window. Finding no welcome, they hover, or fly away.


The light moves me, opens my heart, fills me with longing.

Are you busy? What do you do to get off the train, if only for a moment?

One Comment

  1. Sun on the face, silly humour, some fiction before bed all seem to help. The rush is so compelling, thanks for writing about stepping off the train.

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