Outside my window
I hear the thunder of a train,
passing in the distance.
How many passengers are running away?
Are they dreading their last stop home?
Do they wish to turn around,
Head back to whom they just left?
Or are they excited for what’s to come?
The prospect of a new adventure,
terrifying to some, but
just as inviting to others.
The past will always be there,
as a comforting blanket or
a glaring reminder of mistakes we have made.
Now the future,
The future is ours for the making.
The possibilities we dream of
can be ours.
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