Minutes distillation

Sitting and staring at the landscape
I don’t value these minutes
That can hand out joyful ideas
And first steps
For a new direction.
The train accelerates,
I slow down

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Train catcher

Rushing to the train
Is an art on its own
That only with intelligence you can master.
Quick and instinctive my steps
used to accelerate behind the illusion
Of being the first.
I was crashed and let alone on the track.
I learnt too appreciate each step
That with consciousness I stamp on the ground
And can guide myself faster to the station.