In One’s Travel, a poem by Elfin


In the vast cool atmosphere, the scurrying steps don’t echo.

Eyes around see them without much focus.

Each one to one’s own business.

Time is of great essence.

The voices boom, ears at once try to catch the message.

lines become long then fall short till it’s done.

Faces and composure flash in different angles.

Chairs are the silent companions, bearing the weight of the souls.


Smiles, waves, arms extending, frowns, cries, and talks

The silent spectators just absorb everything, calm, immobile.

The crowd grows and thins till nothing remains

But the few who do the duty.

The wait for another influx is never long.

The cycle begins, ends, and starts all over again.

It has always been like this and will always be,

Even when colors may fade and be changed.

The structure is domineering,

Yet for travelers it is comforting.

A stopover or the final destination,

It compiles life’s stories.

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