Tracks

Some mornings when I gaze down the tracks and don’t see anything on the horizon
I wonder what tomorrow or the next day or the next hour, next minute, next second will bring
And I anticipate it, with open arms, a willing participant
Learning to accept who we are and who we can be in all its beauty – all its joy
I choose my own tracks at times
Choose my own moments
Choose my emotions surrounding the fury that is my mind
Calmly…… yesterday is a memory, tomorrow is a mystery
These tracks beneath my hands are cold iron, soon to provide a frictionless glide to a locomotive
Rushing by
On its own journey, unaware of any blips on its horizon.