My fellow-traveler in the train
She sat there cross-legged, eyes screwed up
Seeming to take a stance, somewhere in the far.
That was not a stance but energy swelling in her
In waves after waves only to break, boisterously,
On rocky shores of bleak nothing, just nothing.
Her cell phone rang fitfully interrupting smooth
Formation of shapes of future textile creations.
Her shapes, not still forms, but moving images
Sizzled and vaporized in split-second transience
Everything moved towards a fixed soul identity.
Her fabric brooked no such thing but rebellion.
The struggle was worth nothing and in the end
Tired, she gave it up and soon went off to sleep.
