The Point of Creation...

A humming rushing  noise
a gentle rocking side to side
while low voices barely heard
as if great secrets are being said,

Colorful scenery passes by
that is only seen
with the slightest of changes
for those with opened eyes,

The smallest of nudges
in  intervals at varied exchanges
opening and closing
as they dance a two step shuffle,

Degrees of knowledge of different bodies
range from zero to sixty percent
raised eyebrows that speck a language
that someone said "Good Day!"

Information passes into an ear
then an expression on a face
of half a conversation
that diagnose the human race,

Eyes bowed
as input reaches deep inside a brain
other eyes are hooded
as fantasies fly high above the rain,

I love to ride the trains
that some find to be a waste of time
life unfolds around me
never touching mine,

Looking at the teeming life
that really seems insane
for me, the point of creation
is when I ride the train.