Mr. Queasy, the fish.

Ah, can you feel it? The sweet and savoury scent of the Christmas wind in a generally hot place, indicating that security and love are present somewhere, unseen but waiting to be felt. You walk adrift, not controlling your own feet yet feeling that your sense of direction cannot possibly be wrong.

The trees move with the soft wind, tingling and shuddering with some delight the human race cannot know of, wishing to fly along the trail of the gust. The sound of the world seems to conspire in your favour, granting you a slight moment of omniscience and hope. Even the other people seem to be smiling, perchance with the same thought circling about your head. Your skin seems to be so glad that for a moment, while your mind is in an altered state, it commands the entire body to abandon ground and rise up to the clouds, with that almost-divine wind, unto the stars and beyond, unto a white shore in a distant planet, unto rocks and pyramids of silver glass; unto a future so bright and beautiful, that your eyes desire and see the whole frame as well. The wind has brought you peace, comfort, and hope for a bright world. Indeed, it has… Your ears hear a whole symphony of instruments resonating in perfect balance. You can feel it, you can hear it, you can see it, you can smell it, you can taste it… you can almost touch it… Good Lord, you are almost there! The wind is taking you to the place you are meant to be!! Rejoice!!!

And then you feel it…

Blast…It was a dream… nothing more.

Blast… You rose so high that you fell altogether lower.

Blast! It was a bloody dream! Nothing more!

Well, be thankful. I haven’t had that dream, yet I lie in your same hole.

This a tale, of a dream, of a train.
Not any machine, only plain and mundane.
Of joy and fantasy, a locomotive.
Cast with magic, without a motive.

Holding still, the world moves around it.
In present, and past, and future you’ll find it.
In order to spot it, you must not be searching.
Open your heart, and it won’t be hiding.
Calling your name with it’s touching “choo-choo,”
Sooner or later it’ll come across you.

Two girls and a boy, together were riding,
On the magical train late one evening.
Dreaming and laughing, and waving at strangers,
The magical train had delightful passengers.

Around and around the palace of dreams they sailed
kindling souls of bystanders with rapture thinly veiled
In the undaunted little blue car that cruised so far
Way beyond kiosk, coffee-house, and sushi bar.

The lights always glaring so jovial, so friendly,
Harmoniously gleaming on shoppes in an alley.
“A sweet surprise, what a twist!”
The children would say as they whirled through the mist.

The train was a-flying,
Over the people a-staring.
What a gaze! What a chance!
Magical train! An instant romance!

Once eager passengers, souls become oblivious.
However, the train, is ever so spacious.
Being inviting, you should wave at strangers,
As they might become the train’s future passengers.