The Morning

On the platform at five
in the morning,
I feel like I am on a stage.

The play is a continuum,
and I, a spectator looking at things,
under the light of this beaming sky.

The trash and drivel are props,
and there are trains,
because once in a while,
people like to go back home.

This play is omnipresence.
The alleys, the toilets,
all shadows, and corners
it suffuses all.

I'm looking at my mind,
like a volcano looking at it's
own fire.

My insomnia is eating me up,
and I own a journey,
It takes me home.

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