Nor is it a random station,
Nor is it just any train,
This is now the train from hence,
This shall take you from hence,
The train, with no stop here to there,
Is but near to greater sort so fair
In price and of creed to depart,
From this place you are now in Mars,
Imagine all the orange and all the rocks,
Now look all around and see our train,
This departs and off to Earth it departs,
Now no human, now no alien, now no life,
You look all around and see no one,
Just no one, nothing, just nothing;
There’s no station, no government, no food,
No wine, no sight, no new light to calm you here.
Imagine, nothing. Just nothing. Just rocks and sand.
How beautiful that is? That no one is around?
I wish I lived there. No more drama. No more rife.
I don’t need hope nor fate to guide me now,
All I need is the rocks and sand.
Spare me the oxygen, my breathing is but poison to life;
Spare me the heat, for I am but heated mind beheld.
So, the answer is clear: a train to Mars.
And never come back.

Category:
Mysterious, Poetry, Works
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