The secret post station
A single strand of rope, with a center tied tightly in a dead knot,
Seems to be a secret post station.
One end of the station is the beginning of my life,
While the other is the end.
I tell myself: This is just a metaphor,
Surely life's realities are not quite so simple.
In this post station of mine, where so many things have come to pass,
Changing the tracks of the train of life, rerouting and delaying its passage.
What if, instead, the dead knot slips?
Would the traces of my footprints be as entangled as they are now?
What if, on the journey of life, there are no post stations,
Would my tracks be as changeable as yesterday’s?
Oh! The secret post station of my mind and heart! It is your presence
That makes known the upheavals of fate, and the helplessness of life!