The train you travel in arrives -
or it does not arrive - at a small wayside station,
and comes to a stop - or, not having arrived,
it does not stop. If it stops,
there will be people boarding it
and there will be others alighting - or
maybe there will be no-one getting on
and no-one getting off the train.
And it is possible that the train will not go on,
having for the moment nowhere to go, nowhere to get to.
If it does not stop and does not go on, it will not exist.
That seems self-evident. And that being so,
what then will become of you and all the other passengers?
How will you justify your existence?
Or will you, too, have ceased to exist?
Can you exist in a train that does not exist?
Can a train that does not exist hold you? Is it
germane to ask whether the non-existent train
in which you are or you are not travelling
is stationary or is moving as a train should? If, indeed,
you have ceased to exist, then how is the train to reappear?
And where? And under what circumstances?
And yourself: under what circumstances
might you reappear, with or without the train?
Why have you never thought about these things before?
The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
Hello everyone who follows David King (My Father). On behalf of the family this post is to let you know that Dad sadly passed away, peacefu...
This post has in a sense been handed to me by two or three responses to my post On not getting it. In the course of discussing how a reade...
It all depends, you see, how you go about it. And that I cannot tell you, for that will be dictated by you and by you knowing your friends...
extract from the poem Koi by John Burnside All afternoon we've wandered from the pool to alpine beds and roses ...