I am a passenger on the train of life. My ticket only reveals the final destination. It tells of a completed journey but not of what the journey holds. I am merely a person with an admittance for the ride, an admittance for one. Traveling on the trust incorporated line. No questions to be asked, as no answers will be given, that is the slogan. The accommodations, well they will vary. Changing numerous times along the track. Sometimes it will be first class. A comfortable plush seat, wonderful expansive views and the food will be incredible and endless. There will be laughter and joy. Pleasure will pop out at you from all angles in the confined space of this red rocket to readiness. From this comfortable place, you embrace the journey and flow with harmonious sounds of the metal friction between the train and the track.
But just as you become comfortable as the vast and beautiful landscape passes you by, those beautiful plush surroundings will vanish as you are thrust into a different car. The long and winding train has many cars and many choices and the journey has just begun. Like a snake it bends between the mountains, slithering into a tunnel, and when finally you emerge from the darkness of the passageway, you find yourself seated on a plank of wood.
Only the smoke vapor from the heated engine of this slithering creature, which drifts by your now small window pane, bears witness to your confusion. In a moment it too has disappeared into the mist of a cold open sky, your one witness now gone. You are alone. The plush residence you once inhabited is now a distant memory as a cold wind blows around your ankles. Your now downgraded ticket, has given you wood planks to sit on, that the varnish has worn off. The rough surface pulls at your clothes as you try to find a comfortable position. It’s like sitting on thistles and trying not to get those tiny pins of pain to stick to the cloth of your clothes. It’s uncomfortable. You turn your head to see the bleak scenery as it passes by. How long will you be here? No questions to be asked, as no answers will be given. What did I do, so that I no longer had the plush car? No questions to be asked, as no answers will be given. The train of trust has left the station, only the destination is known. You hear distant laughter from what you believe to be the fine dining car. There is music, a band perhaps? Dancing, drinking, joy all around, yet here you sit alone. On the train of trust there are no questions to be asked, as no answers will be given. It is full steam ahead. You are it’s willing passenger, after all, you bought the ticket didn’t you?
A Passenger on the train of life………