The Philosophy of Rail Travel

Unlike airplanes, trains give distances what they’re due —
Not challenging them, not trying to subjugate them —
Just roll along — wherever the thread of the rails takes them,
An ecosystem within, the pulse of life, a bubbling stew.

Trains resurrect memories: you, glued to the window, hoping to meet the sea with your gaze,
adults teaching you how to play card games, losing on purpose,
Later, in raging youth, sipping cheap port on your berth,
And standing at 3 am in the vestibule’s smoky haze.

Trains have changed: no more “toilet out of service” at stations,
Homemade fried chicken yielded to ramen noodles of all sorts.
The epitome of distance, Saint Pete to Moscow, now a near-teleport
Akin to a dacha ride, in our century of acceleration.

But there’s something achingly timeless — in those stretched-out home clothes,
In the carriage’s stately swaying, wheels’ gentle rumbling,
In the way you curl up into a fetal position, struggling
To fit your contours into the rectangle of the berth.

In that heart to heart with a stranger relieving you of an invisible burden.
When neither here nor there for N days, of all masks and noise free,
you afford the luxury to just be,
Escaping the tyranny of space-time, a merciless warden.

The train, albeit an express, arrives no sooner than scheduled.
But what’s the point of pondering that too much anyway?
For sometimes what matters is not the destination but the way —
So sit back and enjoy the scenery as you travel.