text: I sit upon this train And stare out the window, As the gray high rises flash by, Making me ask myself why; Why do cities have to be so noisy? Why do people want to live in such places? Why would they opt to breathe smog, choked air? Why, when they could live anyplace, but there? Every day I see the same people, though I know not their names, Nor do I ask. They are strangers to me And I to them. I ask not, because they will never want mine. And I have to ask myself why. Why are there some that say, “You should not talk to that person, Because you don't know him... or her,” Whichever the case may be. How can a friend become a friend, if not given the time? I have to ask myself why. Why do people have to meddle where they don't belong? Why must they try to re-write other people's live’s songs? Why be a friend, when you're just going to manipulate? Why help Evil do what it delegates? I spy a child, sitting by himself And think it's sad he is all alone, Without a loved one, by his side And I ask myself why; Why would a parent send their child off alone? Why do other passengers seem not to care? Why is an eight-year-old sitting amongst strangers? Why must he be thrust into a world of danger? Every so often a new face appears; Sometimes it's old, sometimes young, or in-between, Once a girl, of twenty, got on to never be seen again; I know what happened, and it's a shame no one was convicted of the crime And I have to ask myself why. Why does justice not always go according to plan? Why did the beast have to come out and play? Why must I keep bottled up inside the where, the why, the how? Why has this world, of woe, been brought into being now? An elderly woman gets on at the next stop And I offer her my seat, When I see no one else is willing to try, And I have to ask myself why; Why is there not more respect? Why are the aged not treated better? Why do people feel the need to segregate? Why when they see how frail she is they hesitate? I smile as the train curls its serpentine body across the land, When I spot a blind man scratching the ears of his companion. A child kicks the well-behaved dog, and her mother pays no mind. And I have to ask myself why; Why doesn't she spank the child like the mothers of old? Why do the people wonder where they have gone wrong? Why don't they seem not to care at all? Why are we letting ourselves be led like sheep to the firing wall? A tear slips from my eye, to course down my cheek, Because on this train, a life ceased to be. How is it that I'm the only one that cares he has died? I cry silent tears, as I fix his hair, and ask myself why; Why must egos not see beyond their own facades? Why must life be measured by how many friends you have? Why did this poor soul have to take his last journey alone? Why won't they answer the ringing of his phone? Two rival gang members sit opposite each other and stare. I don't see anything being accomplished by a glare. If there were a way to go back in time, I would like to, in their pasts, to when they were younger, still, but then I ask myself why. Why should I care that they want to annihilate each other? Why suffer my heart the pangs of caring to fix two miss-guided youths? Why do I feel like I'm letting them down, because I cannot their lives mend? Why should I cry tears of remorse, even as they hate their fellow men? I whip my head around at the sound of agony and ferocious pain; And my heart leaps into my throat as someone yells for a doctor. I silently pass through a gathering crowd, which is witnessing the birth of a child. And I ask myself why. Why must one life end, so that another may start its journey? Why were these onlookers absent when the old man died, so that this birth could happen? Why does pain of sorrow have to beget tears of joy? Why can I not be free from this prison, so that I might be with my own baby boy? I look down at my wrists and ankles, but see no shackles, there upon; However, even if I, nor anyone, notices them, they are ever present; Tethering me to this train, upon which I ride And I have to ask myself why. Why do I have to sit and watch humanity go about their days? Why should I have to care that they need a little sunshine now and then? Why do I smile, when everything seems so bleak? Why do I not try breaking my invisible shackles, making myself free? A strange light fills the air around the outside of the slowing train; I've never seen this happen before. There's something pulling me; Something that won't be stilled; And as I exit the train, I see a beautiful sight. Then a voice says, “Welcome to Elysian Fields.” “Why couldn't I have just came here when I died,” I ask. “The journey cleanses the soul and repairs the tears that life leaves behind” “Why doesn't everyone get to see this beautiful place? It might make them change.” “There are none that see's Elysian Fields until they die. I'm, sorry, but that's just the way it is.” “Why did the old man not exit the train with me?” "He has to take the same journey you did, so don't worry; He will be here when the time is right." “Why wasn't I given the ability to help the suffering that I saw, every day, on the train?” “It is not our place to help, but to protect. The living need to learn, if they are to survive.” “Why am I the only departed soul that traveled upon this train?” “Not all that wish to come here will, and, therefore, there will be many trains to Eternity that are nearly empty.” “Why do you not send heralds forth to tell them of this place?” “What do you think you have been doing?” I smile as I look across the field of golden grain, kissed by the dappled sunlight, and see all manner of beast lazing and grazing in the temperate climate. I amble forth and sweep my hands through waist high grasses, which no longer cause me to sneeze. A Grizzly bear, the symbol of my spirit protector, blocks my path, so that he might nuzzle my hand, then ambles on, with not a care in the world. I twirl 'round-and-'round, with my arms out, then run, feeling finally free. I sink to my knees, and bow my head, and thank God for making me free, to live the life that he had planned for me all along. I notice not as the train blows its whistle saying goodbye, as it continues its journey back to the land of the living. Too bad that the living on the train were blindfolded by their everyday lives and did not get to see the beauty that awaits them.