Each morning is met as the previous thirty. Climbing out of bed to realize the reality is not the dream and the dream is not the reality. Waking to a reality that could only be accepted as the nightmare you wish would end but is only beginning anew – the new day embraces yesterday, seizing the old burdens.
Cracks form beneath the steel wheels, concrete and asphalt rend under undue pressures. The freight train continues forward as if it belongs except for the ruinous slipstream. A wake of destruction rather than a celebration of triumph, the freight train can do nothing but go forward, neither turning left nor right without the solid, stout rails to guide the way. Working, struggling to find the rails again before too much is lost.