#WritcoPoemPrompt23
At the end of the tunnel,
There's always a light,
Sometimes soft, at times bright...
lilting in the night.
Around the frosty bend
breaks the tired, almost wizened
crankshaft on the train so likened
To an insect, emerging
perhaps caterpillar splurging
on the new sight saught
by those who have here tickets bought and baggage brought

in unison we all sieze the draft
all together, as also with raft

in looking down, fear the sand
beneath the tunnel's foreboding land
but do not disparage
the next carriage

was once full of chatter and the gurgling engine oil did
splatter.

There is no here once was said
and in the silent call we dread
there..there
it will all be well.
We all go to where we dwell
so many secrets this view will tell.

As winding as awesome
as a wave
as grave
as the pessimists do think
oh but how to go onward
in this tunnel's apparation
that it shall sink?

trust is the what we do
the Earth is never untrue

and the tunnel soothes
brings news. We are captured
by this ground enraptured...
we have only ourselves.