Hear My Train a Comin - J. Hendrix

Up before the alarm this morning, laying in bed, wrapped in a blanket; a few precious moments of hesitation. Then it comes - is there anything as mournful as a train whistle blowing, the sound slowly spreading across the horizon like a pad of butter? Everytime I hear that sound, I think, 'time is passing, my life is hurtling by.' An early morning train, on the tracks, in the early light, filled with people I don't know, coming from some place, going to some place. Life moves on with us and without us. The train's mournful tune disappears into the morning light, I get up, thinking of the things I need to do today. Are any of them essential? I tell myself 'yes,' but I'm not sure it's true.