It was a clear navy blue sky with a few tiny stars and a distant pale white crescent shrouded in misty mysteries, calm, serene and silent, illuminating the sleeping fields dotted with random trees, the grasslands and the endless stretches of seeming nothingness. A train was seething right through the middle of the wilderness, shattering the silence with it.
A lonely soul with his head on the window of the train, the slightly cool wind ruffling his hair. A pair of bespectacled searching eyes while a Pink Floyd song eased into his brain. A brief stop at a station, a third person's view of the hurries of the worried life, and he knew it was a time of likable loneliness, a time in the company of oneself, a chance to peek inside.
He could feel himself breathing. A sense of freedom reverberated through his body. He had left everything behind. He had left the nonsense. He knew he wasn't running away from it, no, he wasn't naive to think that, but in that particular time frame, he felt detached like a soul that had attained salvation. There was nothing to bog him down, no one could pull him back or obstruct his path. He was moving forward, undeterred, like a river that flows down a mountain with zealous carelessness.
He had all the time in the world to ponder and to question. He could look at his life so far, in the trees and the stones that ran past him in the opposite direction. He had no regrets. He felt calm and peaceful as a grateful surge of relief aerated his spirit. He looked at the horizon, an occasional dotted illumination of habitation against the darkness of night. He closed his eyes, soaked in the moment of unbound liberty, and smiled to himself, at the realization of the final stop, the promise of the destination, the ecstasy of the journey.
