The Havanun Tales #20

The Winged Dragon Train

Brings fire and prosperity and peace

The winged dragon train Brings fire and prosperity and peace

I have always enjoyed traveling by train.

By train I arrived in Havanun.

It was the last. Then the station stood still, like an abandoned toy.

It’s snowing now. Trains are ancient.

The iron they are made of is inlaid with ornamental motifs, painted black, silver and red mahogany. Glories of another era. Velvet secretly to caress on the seats.

Trains crouch in the snow.

They certainly have tea. They recount of burning coals, racing along the tracks, rousing ups and downs, on the hills, cows watching them go by, children who say goodbye, balloons flying.

Atomic vibrations that I cannot perceive.

Of connecting rods, of springs, of tenacious hooks made to resist effort, time, rust and speed. To resist human beings who wear out the roads.

Trains’ things, that I cannot appreciate.

Yet I would like to hug one, a train, ride it, flow through heaven and earth, as on a winged dragon, blowing clouds from ears, bringing fire and prosperity and peace.

And soldiers returning to their girlfriends. And writers looking for a place to write.

Trains observe me, stroking their long golden beards. Maybe they want to leave.

But the station is enchanted.

As always, Dorothy explained to me how it works.

With the soul streeling from station to station. With tons of snow on shoulders, on luggage, on thoughts.

From sorrow to sorrow, miracle to miracle, taking train after train as if it were finally the same one train.

Until you realize that nothing of existence is wasted, that travel is a gift and you must not give it back to anyone. And there are no trains to miss.

I would like to ride a winged dragon train flowing through heaven and earth bringing fire and prosperity and peace.

That’s it. I have always enjoyed traveling by train.