Inspired by listening to the soundtrack:
South of Heaven West of HellWe get to thinking we're at the end, just riding that 'ole train, regardless of how we might want to dream. We glance at the passing train stations. Leaving no memories, just blurred visions like our dreams. When we focus on one station, thinking ...this is what I'd like to do and this is where I'd like to be. It seems that old damn father time pours more coal on for the engine to speed up and let us know, might as well relax and just ride on past. We then laugh with a tired sad soul at the thought that we even had a choice. Thinking, well, no need in getting off or trying to alter the track. So we escape behind rose colored glasses and self-convincing lies.
I have to say, that was me...yesterday. Something invisible, something calm and quiet, graced up behind me and gently removed those damn glasses. Glad they were on the same train, but saw it all different. Now I view clearly what can be done, if only we'd wake up. I'm a bit hazy after riding that smokey steel horse for years, laying dormat and lazy. I stuck my head out the open window, letting that breeze sting my face. I realized I was still alive. Now I had a choice. Either forget that tiny moment of feeling vibrant, or choose a destination where I could get off that damn train.
And let me tell ya, no amount of coal was going to stop me. Batter and bruised, I landed in a spot that wasn't what I thought. But as I turned to see that 'ole train clanging down those metal beams without me, I didn't give a damn I wasn't were I was suppose to be. A big grin told me, I'd find the pathway, dusty and dry or cold and wet, I'd find the steps I needed or they'd find me. I never felt more alive.
That train was comfortable and sure, while slowly killing me. Now in wonderment and uncertain, I was alive, or at least I knew I was alive. Might not find that dream, might not find that station where I'd like to be. But damn, I won't be sitting and clanging. I'll be moving forward, not bound by metal beams, just bound by my dreams.
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Life has a way of escaping into faded thoughts or broken memories. Life has a way of being uncontrolled, wasting away. Here is my journey on returning to being alive again, not a routine robot or unconscious consumer, but living my dreams. 
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