Express

I am a train. My destination is clearly marked; a long distance journey with many stops.

I pull out of the station, heavy with luggage, but as long as I've got a destination I know I'll
keep on track
keep my rhythm
stoke the engine
move.

I roll across the countryside. The scenery mesmerises me; I leave my heavy cargo.
Until -
the train loses a passenger. And my engine stutters.
But people depend on me when their trains derail, and I've still got a destination, so I
keep on track
keep my rhythm
stoke the engine
move.

I change scenery; cross countries seamlessly. My load is awkward and I'm far from home. But I've got a destination and it
keeps me on track
keeps my rhythm
stokes the engine
makes me move.

I lose two passengers, and start to worry what is next.
The tracks start to shake, from unexpected sources and when I start the homeward journey - I lose another passenger. I am a shell of a train. I am cargoless. I am good for carrying nothing. But I still have a destination and although I can't see it, the thought of it
keeps me on track
keeps my rhythm
stokes the engine
makes me move.

As I get closer to my destination, it is confusing, exciting, anxious and nauseous, curious and hopeful. Steam clouds around me, the noise is louder and louder, the speed out of control
and
then
I'm home.
My destination.

I'm not moving.
I have no rhythm.
I am not on track
I am
falling
sideways
swerving
seeking movement
and my parts start to rust under salty droplets
and I realise I am tired,
the rails are buckled.

I am de-railed, the engine seizes and this train has lost its drive, lost its engine, has no destination.

Stopped.