Epyllion of the Transporter

197 words·2m read
Another passenger is ready
to cross the land of the living.
Time works differently here,
Yet, the train keeps moving,
It stops and moves; stops, but moves,
Picking passengers every second,
Blasting it loud horn
That never stops.

The travellers are on their way,
To one destination that decides their fate,
The only fee they have to pay,
Is a kiss on the transporter's lips,
They can't complain, but to wait,
No matter how long the journey takes.

The transporter, on the other hand,
Has much to say.
She's charged with a task;
To never rest nor take a break,
Until "the great return"-
One the whole earth looks forward to,
From the day of the "curse",
All of creation's been busy,
They often cry:
How long, O LORD?

You'd be surprised,
Even the angel of death
Has the same cry for help,
She's the only transporter
That has ever kissed the King's lips;
Who on that very day
Took her sting away
But with a promise of hell on his return.
With every passenger,
That enters her train
Or whom she kisses,
She looks to heaven
And I can hear her whisper:
How long, O LORD?
— Cotek
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