MY OLD CARRIAGE
I am riding high over the stones and
gravel of a world passing beneath. It's
been going a while now : the usual
trepidations and configurations of the
shadows of things I'm seeing below.
My mind is like a starry night, and
it's all my own. This wagon was once
more filled with people, but they
have slowly each fallen off. I laugh,
but because I cannot any longer scoff.
It's all becoming real to me this far and
distant reverie that I'd been so long
thinking of. It's up now; next station
and stop along the coming way. But I
am ready, I guess, and well-traveled
enough, in my way, to understand the
signposts and the lights. And that bell.
tolling, off in the distance? It's no
longer just a dream for me.
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