The Swell of Possibilities

I follow the train of thought
back to the front
to find no locomotive, no
locomotion, levers left
beside a broken track;
a cowering figure covering eyes
ears, mouth; … a piercing peep
high above the low clouds,
I ascend through white waters
rafting higher and higher
on the continuing canal of promise;
no backwards only frontwards
the new train of thought in flight
towards the newborn bird of prey
calling my name, calling for me
to let my wings unfold as I surf
the swell of possibilities,
loop-de-loop the spiralling sky
towards infinity.