Ouroboros

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The sun was searing through every fabric of seclusion, the radiating heat had blurred the visions. Somebody threw himself in front of the approaching train. Everyone heard the grumbling of the rails, the deafening, alarming horn of the train. Everyone saw its bolting speed; everyone saw it moving. Only some noticed that the scene was not devoid of a mishap. Someone noticed an apparition of a man materialized out of the thin air for a fleeting instant and vaporized just as quickly before the collision. Someone noticed a white cloak fluttering, floating in the scorching wind and watched as it enveloped the front of the train on the impact. Someone saw an old, emaciated weakling of a man; a bent spine throwing himself against the wrought iron front of the train and being shredded into bits instantaneously; his boiling blood evaporating just as it made contact with the blazing world outside; finally freed from the narrow sheaths of the veins. Right then, someone felt something wrong had occurred somewhere; someone else felt the world is a better place all of a sudden. Someone saw a young man throwing himself to his death, with his face smeared in blood; no it was tears, no it was blood. Someone noticed nothing; neither the train, nor the sun, nor the cries, nor the sorrows, nor the joys; nothing. Someone noticed a barefooted child running to his death in the hope of fetching his toy that had made its way amid the rail tracks. Naïve, innocent, punished. Much to disappointment, all the woes and sorrows of the world argued that no one was present to witness the reality of the scene. They wept and cried, desperate for someone to bless them with the true account of the incident. Unbeknownst to all, someone was indeed there. A witness to all that progressed, all that unfolded. An eye to the secret. An ear to the wailings. Unbothered, unmoved by all that happened. Now making his way to the same accursed spot by the railway ledge in time before the next train arrives. Punctual, very punctual. The sun was searing through every fabric of seclusion, the radiating heat had blurred the visions. He allows a smile form across his lips; a train has made its appearance on the horizon to the right.

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