Getting Off The Train

At some point, I got off the train ... with all of its momentum, with all of its ambition, with all of its worthwhile and exciting destinations.  With all of its swaying back and forth, its movements, convincing its riders that progress was being made.  I headed into parts unknown to me. Though I would find a trail in the wilderness, I didn’t really know that at the outset.  Others had passed through and marked a path, in the generations and seasons that had come before.  It required focus to make out their markings, as time and weather had worn their edges.  But the path was certainly there, and with diligence could be discerned and trusted.

At times, there were voices on the wind.  At other times, I would find writings along the path.  Both would guide and encourage me in moments just when I needed it most.  I could tell that there were few who had found the path that I was on, and though such travelers were often alone, the clarity they had experienced was leading to something worthwhile, something transcendent.  And something that the folks on the train, with all their encumbering bags and bundles, longed to be free to step into.

No doubt, free souls had passed this way before me.  I could sense their nearness, even though time had us trapped beyond each other’s reach.  Still, they beckoned to me, and I sensed and understood their urgings.  They were encouraging me to continue onward, toward a destination that was yet to be revealed.