The train station

So much pain, so much joy,

So much stuff, so much junk,

People you know, move away,

Things are all in change,

Things are all in transit,

No permanent features,

Wrinkles, scars, callus,

Arterial highways,

Needle marks,

But ,though the details vanish,

And new replaces old,

There is comfort,

Because, the form stays,

The river winds and sways,

But it is still flowing,

The tears you're shedding,

The laughs you have,

Are mere specimens,

In a personal collection,

Which everyone has,

Which everyone lose,

Which everyone earns,

But it is just a form renewed,

No reincarnation, sadly,

No return to old paths we stray,

It just goes on,

It just goes on,

Even prosers pass away,

Some get tired,

Some get upset,

But the prose keeps working,

Bugs and all.