I conceived this poem over 50 years ago. Dissatisfied with the initial draft I did no more but over the years one or two key lines continued to haunt me. Early in June 2024, I managed to fall out of a tree I was pruning. My injuries included my left broken arm, hand, and wrenched neck. As a left-handed person that put a stop to many activities, including writing. Trolling through a listing of unfinished poetry the old draft came back in view. Unable to do much else without help, with one unsteady right-handed finger I began to rewrite it.
The Royal Train is now finished. There are two words in the poem you may not be familiar with, they are Djinn and Yama. Djinn is an Arabic plural noun meaning elemental earth-bound spirits hidden from sight. Yama is the Hindu God of death and justice, son of the Sun God Surya, who judges the souls of the dead and depending upon their deeds, assigns them to the realm of the Pitris, (their soul heritage) or to Naraka, (Hell) or to be reborn on Earth.
Humming gently, whistle muted
the Royal Train arrives,
auto enabled
and expectant of deaths
it screeches driverless to halt
at Rebirth Platform number one.
Doors open.
Into the darkened interior
you float
light as a feather, half asleep,
jostling to get a window seat;
dreaming, so you believe
the tangled web you often weave.
You’ll not hear the whistle keening
the train restart
or know its full and wide within
but you will hear, and feel
the pulsing coupled driving wheels
relentlessly rhyming
♫ abba du by abba du by
du by du by abba du by♫
Cyclical sounds dispelling time
unfolding memories, child-like
motivating youthful desires.
Easily thoughts become creative
manifesting a desirous world
pulsating independent forms,
life needy forms that gratify,
satiate, and has you wake
and expostulate
to the rhyming wheels
♫ do what you will, do what you will♫
Is this dying you ask of me
travelling free able to see,
testifying
life doesn’t end?
To begin it’s all picture postcard
Dolby Sound and Technicolour
Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh.
You, righteously urging the Self
undo, make up, inwardly heal.
Elemental forces enter in
purpose forms and whispers Djinn.
Unreasoned giving thoughts arise,
happiness spreads like blood within.
Onward and-upward you spiral….
the ego cries unwise!
Fear of God enters in:
knowledge dissipates.
♫Hinder me not, hinder me not
Hinder me not, hinder me not ♫
Hallelujah, God is Great!
Here you reign between the points
of destination and departure
coerced to play the part of king
to this extension of your mind:
pieces and pawns, two of a kind
aboard the Summerland express,
resolved to undo, clean the slate,
begin anew:
entrained upon the ever long
never-ending
pointed track.
Yama the Jailer God.
Where will it end
you ask yourself?
No sooner said
the melody of chiming wheels
cease their singing.
Doors slide back,
the Station Master speaks
”Rebirth platform number two!”
A dream of people disembark.
No such place but it feels like home
but why you ask, and where am I?
Here unknown smiley people sing
and have you fear the child within.
No walls here and no pearly gate.
The old and young in ragged trews
torn uniforms and winding sheets
or dressed like you, in Sunday best
congregate and await their fate.
Loved ones you believed were dead
appear glowing with health, saying
do what you will, you’re free, enjoy!
Youthfully love, rest from the world
time-out, reinvent and explore.
Your thoughts cease to justify need,
love bearing energies bond with
outpourings of the giving self.
Harmony prevails,
the Way becomes known.
Hallelujah, God is Great!
Seeds of union germinate,
love unfettered starts to grow,
your mind enjoins to many lives.
Reason no longer governs form
upward as mustard seed you flow.
All and everything
in a spiral flow.
Doing better
more of what was done before.
The Way becomes your inner state
Divine reason commands the soul.
Karmically you accept your fate.
How can I suggest you differ?
Little do you know, its checkmate
another game must now begin.
Hallelujah, God is Great!
And then behold the train appears
gleaming blue royal gold and red.
And there you are
on platform three
crowned royally,
purposed yet again to steal
the apple from the knowledge tree.
Driverless it stops with open doors
and into the lighted carriage
you float
light as a feather, soul elite,
jostling to get a window seat.
Knowing how you now believe
why the tangled web deceives.
You’ll not hear the whistle keening
the train begin,
but you will know
why its wide within.
Omnipresent is your soul
purposed to achieve its goal.
As expected you can hear
the pulsing coupled driving wheels
relentlessly rhyming.
Clock ticking cyclical sounds
birthing memories
motivating earthly thriving.
♫Abba du by abba du by♫
♫ du by du by abba du by♫
Adam and Eve, Adam and Eve
Adam and Eve, Adam and Eve
♫Abba du by abba du by♫
♫ du by du by abba du by♫
The trains’ jingling rhyme
Is birthing the earthly mind.
Conscience conflicts with
needy newborn voices, that
proclaim their immortality.
.
And in their chatter promise dies
has you fear the child within
will depart
and hollow out your heart.
Another self is looking on:
Singular and base.
You query why it doesn’t speak
wrapped up, curled in sleep.
Elemental forces enter in, and
your single purposed soul divides
further from the source you ride.
Every now and then
the whistle blows,
wheels hiss and grind.
Coaches shudder.
Train doors open to a void.
The station master’s voice
is indistinct.
You cannot tell when or where.
Bemused, benumbed, and apathetic,
coerced to play the Chess of Life.
Be you Bishop, or be you Rook
be you Knight or be you Queen.
Be you foolish, or be you wise,
believe or not
you will survive.
The Royal Train will call again.
Here you reign between the points
of destination and departure.
Once a prince of past endeavour,
bodies forming, whispering Djinn,
are serving you, the absent king.
Now conscious of the daylight
weaving anew the tangled web.
Predestined to rhyme in miles forecast
ever purposed
to the pointed track
the never-ending pointed track.
Yuma the Jailer God.
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