A midnight train is just a place
Where we stop, after the child,
A temple at the end of a travel
Quietly losing a thread of talk.
A poem is a better time- travel.
We worry about our lost child.
A temple god is a spatial form
Our idea now, a fear in a belly.
And now they have gone away
And now we turn our shadows.
Midnight is shadow of our day
Space between train and time.
The Morning is Just a Dream 
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