Journeymen

Photo Credit: Christian Gonzalez

JOURNEYMEN

The epitome of New York, it is not

New York, the city that never sleeps

New York, where you can be alone in a city of eight million

New York, where tunnels guide us on a journey far from where we start

New York, where night brings a different journey

Few wander here at this time of night.

Few know that the subway is not just ours

Few realize, that even when we are alone, we are not alone

The lights race towards the abyss, shining above all else

The tracks shine bright, not as bright but just as proud

The pipes snake alongside, following the lights

Their journeys are often overlooked, hidden by ourselves

Their journeys aren’t ours

Their journeys are irrelevant because we are concerned with the journeyman that will help us on our journey

Only when we are alone…

Only when I am alone, can I see

They are all on the same journey as us

They are all heading into the dark, unforgiving abyss.

The portal that leads home

Lonely nights are not really lonely nights

Lonely nights only mean the absence of ourselves

There’s still the cool autumn air, enveloping our faces

There’s still the eerie quiet, filling our ears with soundless bliss

There’s still the light, that even with the abyss so near gives us a sense of warmth

They give us hospitality–a much-needed break on our journey

And then there’s the eventual rumble, the thunder, that comes as our journeyman roars into view