Journeys

Journeys.

It  is  not  a  journey  across  space,

Commitment  and  dedication  involving

The   zone  factor of  risk too,

It is  a  journey   across  your

mental  plane , factual  rhythms

of   cerebellum  quickly  move along.    

That  was the  day , me  seated  in

The  corner  of  intercity express

From  Bangor  to Euston ,

Slowly  the  Sun   warms up,

gobbles  not   the  cloudy bouts, 

allowing  them  to go.

The   glossy  river  on my  left,

foamy  and  dogmatic too:

As  the  train  speed  past,

ancient    mystery is  repeatedly

unravelled.  Rivers  and  rocky

mountains , embodiments of

Eternity’s   monuments, nullifying

Our  dogma of scepticism

agnosticism  too. In Milton Keynes

I see  a traveller  chains  his  child,

 Dragging ,  know  not  why?

Discipline   reinforced this way,

Or  safety ensured,

to   assure  himself,

I recollected in  India,

Fire  engulfed  the

mentally   retarded ,charred  whose

 legs were chained, what more

cruel ,  barbarous , to  those

innocent  victims?

Would   homage  punctual

Every year  retrieve them, dumbfounded?