Tracks

I once saw tracks as I was walking in the woods. The damp moss cushioning my every step. Flowers blooming, where once was crushed by steel wheels roaring to it's destination without the slightest of empathy. The tracks were old and rusty. The imperfections of the wood and rocks eroded where once placed to take a person to their destination. Beauty of all things, Mother Nature took her place to wipe away those imperfections, however failed to take away the sheer memory. All together the memories of tracks and trains can be symbolic. Big and powerful, it storms across the land as ashes float in the sky. Trains will soon be replaced as the ashes in the sky turn into wings and as time goes by the tracks will morph and rust into the ground. I remember the tracks in the woods as I took a picture that hangs on my wall. Beauty can only be found when you least expect it. As I write in circles, so did the train travel until it stopped just a little ways down on the imperfect tracks, in hopes one day someone will take pictures as the flowers continue to grow. The thought makes the world stand still and the perfection of one picture will last forever.