Along the Rails

                Inspired by the art of and dedicated to Ray Bradbury

That world of yours and not of mine -
Too stiff for breath and tight for mind -
Is stuck in dull and dreamless sleep
Unstirred by play of fancy deep

And as I walk along the rails,
My knapsack full of fairy-tales,
Of summer smells and tastes and smiles,
Of left behind so many miles

And from a Martian bottle blue
Like a child’s eyes, like morning dew
I take a sip of magic wine
Made of a thousand dandelions

I feel quiet joy begin to build
As I pass by a ripening field,
Breathe in the smell of creosote
Of this forsaken railroad –

So much alike is often born
On waking on a summer morn
A child’s striking view of life
In plain things to him not rife

And thus begins the greatest trip,
A ceaseless urge to reach and grip
The wonder meant for him alone –
The endless way of coming home

And so I walk along the rails
At easy gait, through easy gales,
I sing my songs of clouds and sky,
Of sun and birds that hover high

Of distant cities yet unnamed,
Of fairy forests still untamed,
Of dusty winds and rusty dust
Of scorching deserts wild and vast

Of stars and voids and hidden places,
Mysterious and long-gone races,
Of other worlds and other times,
Of ancient tales, forgotten rhymes –

Of human mind and human dreams,
Freedom to tear through the seams
And chase that ever-fleeting thing
Which makes us rise and soar and sing

Just like a child who feels this all
Too vague to word, too hard to hold,
That’s why I keep a bit of wine
Made of my childhood days divine

And so I walk on this quiet day,
My knapsack full of much to say,
And miles pass for me alone –
The long, long way of coming home