A cruise... A journey...a voyage...a pilgrimage...

4:04
The digital clock showed
The Time...a moment
And he slowed
Down...from fifty to ten
In twenty mini seconds
For the railroad crossing
Had the bar yellow and black fallen
A mail would pass...
Probably an engine...
Through the dark
he noted the sparks
Of the roaring thing's arrival
On tracks he must have hit pebbles...
The cyclops like head light...
Briefly illumed the space...
The mail engine passed
Breaking the dense silence...
Of the journey taken
By him again...

Soon after from the guardman's shack
Just beside the track
a person appeared
The guardman himself...
he standing lone
At the crossing noted
how the guard in his khaki attire
First pushed an iron into a long pipe
And then pulled a lever
And then like a pulley
Rolled a circular thing...
The bar yellow black started to move up...
he pressed ignition red...
The journey again resumed
And he took the road...
Through a country green
Which had not yet light seen...
he was reminded so much of a story
By Ruskin Bond...
A forest of pine and deodar
And a railway crossing...
Thinking all these he moved on...

a big wasteland his eyes spotted...
A big and vast one filled with long grass and bushes...
And a few white cranes...
There flew and hopped...
he again stopped...
Engine he killed
For the white cranes would not like the purring noise...
he watched them with all intent
They...twin it seemed
The cranes white ...
They walked on long legs and also had low level flight...
Their walking had a curious playfulness
As if they were playing out a game in their white white dress...

he moved on...
A big algae topped pond
Next he came across...
A big pond middle absolute clear
Catching the sky turning blue O dear!

he moved still
With all those ethereal natural feel...

Coming across a big banyan old
he thanked his Lord
For letting him
To see how the big old tree
With age filled the locality
With shelter and hope...

A slope
Not steep was near
he prayed to God
To help him clear
The muddy slippery hurdle...

he did...
he thanked again...
By the time the Sun had risen
Like a smiley round orange and pink
he looking up tried to catch the orange and pinkish streaks
Spreading like brush strokes across the east...
the color scheme stored he in his mind's random memory disc...

Finally he stopped by a bridge
From here he would have to get to the concrete
Builds...structures...joggers...parks...
From here he would take another
Pilgrimage...

But the sky had Helios fine
Orange and pink in the blue did shine...
he for the last time looked up
Placing his left palm on his breast soft
And prayed...

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