There are no freight trains to the Galapagos
An obvious point to anyone looking at a world map
Nor any way she would forgive herself
For not trying to go places
Off her frayed and tattered life map
Last night she dreamt
She was walking alone on a strange distant planet
Not Mars or Venus, a place without a name
She was looking for something, maybe even somebody
She’d misplaced a long time ago
Night fell, darkness followed
Morning came, no light appeared
In the distance, she heard a faint train whistle
As she peered into the darkness, she remembered
She had given away what she thought she’d lost
As the train whistle grew louder
The darkness slowly receded
A rusted metal sign stood before her
“Purgatory” it said
She remembered then–she had no life
Like this:
Like Loading...
Related
Author: Don Iannone, D.Div.
Biography
Photographer, poet, teacher, complementary medicine provider, interfaith minister, and former economic developer. Holds a Doctorate in Divinity, Master of Divinity, Master of Mind-Body Medicine, and Bachelor of Arts degree in Anthropology. Clinical certifications in Reiki, guided meditation, life purpose coaching, and spiritual counseling. Author of 12 books, including two new books in the contemporary spirituality field. Learn more here.
Contact Information
Kosmos Consulting and Research website: https://www.donaldiannone.com/
Visual Advantage Photography website: http://www.visualadvantagephoto.com
Flickr Photo Page here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/don-iannone
Contact Don Iannone by email: diannone@gmail.com
View all posts by Don Iannone, D.Div.
Poetic Alchemist 
Last train to the bardo
Though there is no other
All bardos the same bardo
Though there is no bardo at all