Black Train

A.M.D.G.
Philip Lam
March 14, 2007
December 7, 2007

Seated alone in a long black train…I hear the sounds of weeping rain…Out of the window all is a blur…Looking for movement, but nothing will stir…Nothing but silence is heard by the ear…And all that is in sight is sadness and fear…Upon the ceiling a shattered light…A flicker or two is seen through the night…The turning of wheels along the iron tracks…Sounds like the devil preparing the racks…The soul burning engine that fuels the black train…Turns the hope into deep dark pain…The conductor in front with black hollowed eyes…Stares through the abounding colorless skies…The emotion has fled, from his expressionless face…No cause to give joy no reason for haste…The clock is just ticking, again and again…Yet still hasn’t moved from the hour of sin…It’s broken and shattered, in too many places...Life is hard for so many faces…There’s no passenger onboard that has reason…No heart that hasn’t, commented its treason…Slowly so slowly, eyelids are closing…Minds in search, hearts reposing…Head in hand, it turns to rest…The easement of the burden chest…The eyelids that flutter, shut tight…And in the calmness the heart is brought to light…