As riders upon a train
The purpose of life
is to love — and be loved.
Nothing more, nothing less
as the pragmatic-minded might advise.
If doing neither — loving and being loved — then,
what is it that engages your time
but a game of waiting, waiting and waiting
for the perfect moment to arrive.
In time wasted on waiting for make-believe moments
we are riders upon trains traveling past
where strangers wait — alone
for the sun to warm their cold shoulders
and a pleasant wind to stir
they might have
and the moment
when love arrived and it felt
like everything and nothing else