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I felt as lonely then as I do now,
As I have felt for years. The comfort is hard to forget,
A warm morning bed ripe with perfectly grown crevasses and ripples.
Why do I think sadness will take me home?
Sadness, though full of memories and longing will not take me to those old places.
Sadness is not a train to my home station, to the platform where my journey began.
Sadness is the whistle, reminding me where I am,
Reminding me what this journey is, and that I have chosen it.
A warm morning bed ripe with perfectly grown crevasses and ripples,
A carriage of a greater machine,
Unable to stop though the cord has been pulled.
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