To Vahalla

I stepped off the car to the smell of oil and diesel.
Unmistakable.

I had Philip Glass and the Kronos Quartet
No 3 – Mishima / Closing

A majestic procession of rail cars
Warehouse condos and fenced lots
The grey skies seemed to sparkle with the lift of the strings
Glimmers of what was a spectacular sunset
You could see the winter cold

Rush hour in Chicago
Timed madness

Like a river with controlled currents

Go
Stop – Go
Stop
GO

People everywhere

All in their own lanes
Like a well choreographed ballet
Simplicity from complexity

Beauty in the Stand still.

Dim lights and bright neon.

I find a cave to crawl in
Warm glow of cable news
Absurdity in a 24 hour loop

I run through messages
Nothing new
Same old list of refugees

Camps closing
Whispers of better confines on new horizons
March of Hope
Towards what, none of us are sure
But march we must


An hour passes
Two veterans from the early days of the war stumble in
We drink
We remember battles past
We speak of life without war

We all decide peace is boring

Another round of drinks with dinner
Time to go

Back to the cold embrace
Like the station inhales and exhales
Before spewing our steel home back out

East into the black

The Einherjar call us to the Hall.

...

A steel grey tube
Thin metal track
Chilling black

Almost 24 hours
Iron horse zephyr
Express to the Capital
Of a dying nation
Maybe already dead
Limbo
Someone forgot to call the time

Toe tagged for decades
Trailing on the last flashes of hope

Stubborn ideals
Like street lights east of South Bend
Rural Indiana
No one for miles
But they hold their candles lit proudly
For warriors never returning home

So many strangers
All running
For what?

What is left to run for?
Even change comes in time
Like a water fall from a leaky facet

All it takes is time.

Time
I have no time
No ability to wait

Earthquake of motion

Shakes you like a good hangover
I’ll never drink again

Pass the bottle

So often hitting the end of the tracks
This time seems like the worst of them all

Racing to the promised land
Upon Valkyrie wings
No candles lit at this church

Here they blow them out for kicks
No one cares unless they can get the take

People fain surprise at the announcement of corruption
Another blustery storm on its way to jail

Another realization of a broken dream