The train travels soundlessly.
People stand like figurines -
Glazed, untouchable -
Positioned in perfect balance
So that inertia barely moves them.
So many eyes,
With black holes for centers
Filled with - nothing;
Absorbing - nothing;
One vastness penetrating another,
They hold no emotion.
Stranger, what is your story?
Traveller, where are you heading?
Maybe we could weave a net
Of understanding deep enough
To draw emotion from this sea of people.
Even a smile could breathe warmth into this stillness -
Even the air is unmoved.
