FEATURED,Living LIKE A TRAIN MOVE (WRITE UP)

LIKE A TRAIN MOVE (WRITE UP)



Brightness is there, t he moon lights, the stars gazes, but the wind… It flourishes with this breeze, a blanket is only left to quell such a reality. So touchy, so certain, so there, so within, so present. Never heading back, or going forward or middle place. Arise and shine it says.

On any other day, another hand would have provided comfort, eases it round even though the world is such that. A word to itself. Quick turning this, quick turning that. Feelings these, emotions those. Now close, now far. Friendly, now enemies. Talking to each other, now silent. Smiley, now sad. Spreading jokes, now not. On the move, then nothing. Now up, then down. Fast turning or slow turning, Leaving you behind or going forth ahead. Now with you, again next gone. Lies and truth. Thought this but proved that, left alone to know oneself, to survive, to be better, to learn oneself, and to grow or fall.

A hand so definite that a guide to show the way, sages of wisdom falling, impacting your way of thinking to the fullest.

A hand that showcased  itself when down low. When you need one to rise above the strands of bottom near the ground, to reach a level so true, so perfect, so realisable, so known, so enriching, so majestic.

A hand that acted like a torch passing a button, from theirs to you. Passing to generation and generation. The story of how the hand came to be, a motivator, an inspiration, that to reach you will. Step by step, slowly by slowly. Left alone is trust and so will it be.

Laughter fills the air nearer, noises from shouts, a calling, an answer, a horn beeping, the rising flute of traffic on the roads. Whistles of traffic police in action. Ambulance wailing like there is no never a rest, emergency after another, bad luck to put it so. Never wished, never dreamt, only but imagined, but there happening, so bizarre. Wiwiwi wiwiwi, it continues on and on.

A cry of a baby not so far away, the clutter of spoon to food being eaten. Smiles not far away are heard. Though the hand is missed, there should be a continuation. The present is to be lived still, memories to guide us, words to impact wisdom, life lived to motivate, tests passed of the hand to be a gusto, a set of example to lead the way. To walk with a feeling of pride, yet not there, where you want to be. But, rather for the hand being there is to give an air, an expression that to achieve it will be so. That and that there and there will be reached. Just breathe I n the air, give it a second. 1, 2, 3 and exhale, breathe the air out. There now, you got it. Repeat and repeat and all goes easy, conquering. Alexander the great will be ashamed that you too exist. Whatever that sphere of influence it might be, run.

The legend of the hand must prosper, it must grow, for the fire still burns, it still glows and it is for those of the present that make they of the hand to be remembered also. What the embers of the burning woods does from who that throws in those strands, big or small of trees will determine what history will record. For most of it all, it does remember the bold. Make a move, make a move, make a move. Small. Snail it if it makes sense,  lion it if that is the answer but still like a car or a train journey through the rails.

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