Wishing for an eternity,

Two friends rode the steam train

With a mist-covered railroad

And tracks built by constellations.

The other passengers were diverse

But boarded the train all the same

From places like a sunken ship

Wrecked by the Atlantic ice,

Or houses blaring and flaming

Encased in gunpowder and death.

Some had missing legs

Others had missing heads

It was terrifying for the boys,

But it was okay; they had each other.

“I’m glad I have you by my side,

I’d go anywhere with you,”

A boy wanted to say.

But instead, he said,

“Let’s plan our own futures

Instead of letting the train

Choose our path.”

So they read the obscure constellations

And rewrote the railroad tracks

Into an eon of tight friendship

As the other passengers left

For their fated stops

Disembarking for a paradise

Some willingly, some unwillingly.

Every single one of us

Is riding upon this railroad.

All these wires, cables,

Vital health monitors

Are the very proof that we’re

Being carried towards our final destination.

My grandma was dying,

Laying on the thin hospital sheets

As my mom, dad, brother, and I

Felt her terminal draw near

Whether in shock, grief,

Or in an impenetrable silence.

Say something, say something

Just say something, anything

What’s the point

What can it do

Can she even hear me

What can I even say

Why can’t I think

Am I scared, shocked

Am I actually embarrassed

I mean––you can’t hear while asleep, right?

She might not even die, right?

Why not just say it after she wakes up

After the railroad comes out of the mist

For the constellations to reveal a new path?

“Grandma, don’t die,” brother said

And the heart monitor beeped––

Reaching out to us, she stood

Near the exit, involuntarily waiting

As the railroad tracks eventually

Uncovered a final station from the mist.

Then, it was silence all over again

And destiny triumphed like always.

That was the first time I realized

My feelings were forever lost in the galaxy,

That the constellations

Can never really be read

Nor can it be changed––

Only perceived.

I can finally understand

How ominous it must have felt

For the boy to find his friend missing,

Left alone on the train,

Lamenting how he should have 

Told him how much he cherished him,

How much he wanted

To stay by his side,

Before being engulfed

By an immutable regret

And finding out that

His friend, too, had a destination,

That the constellations in the sky,

The tracks of the railroad,

Can only be rewritten

In a naive dream.