“Hell is empty, and all the devils are there.” – William Shakespeare

“There’s nowhere you can be that isn’t where you’re meant to be.” – John Lennon

What I saw at dusk was a boxcar with ageing wood, sitting under cold stars in shadowland. It appeared misunderstood. It spoke to me of empty men sleeping there while traveling across these plains. Their minds bringing darkness to this boxcar. To the boxcar they were all the same. For what I saw bore no life to see, just an empty craven wasteland with a hobo hotel for the damned, by life’s decree.

Hollow whispers from a spirit; where zero is the sum, once a part of family now this boxcar has none. Should we whisper stories, should we tell of times, drug beyond a great and mighty engine destined toward the mountain mines. Once upon a far place, joined by groove and tongue, now a ghost and empty, humming words of rhyme. Thy will be done. Oh yes, in time, thy will be done. Shush, a spirit says to me, think not of things so lonely. Has not your life been better still, not pulled by inhibition rather you have been this boxcar staring off a hill. Have you not been given much, in so much more have you not gained?

Snow it stirs in cold wind driven across these plains. Empty features in the darkness all looks the same. For this boxcar declares itself a vacant, vacant shell, a metaphor for emptiness when nothings there. There is nothing left to tell. Somewhere in this cold dry, wind a coyote sighs. My hope for him this deadly night is he make his scavenger find. Still what is this stand about, outside this boxcar? How does it shape the future or is it reminiscent of the start. Is this a visual for learning or a lesson from the past. Or is it about being grateful for everything I have.

Still here is this great image that last unto this week, of that dark wooden boxcar its foundation on a frozen steppe. That land that stretches from its open black doorway, that reaches to take me in, that whispers words of mystery, “Come forth and lie inside”. Though, there is that great challenge to test my will and try. Perhaps it is better not to wonder what it is like inside. Yes, I think it better still that I stay outside. – 12.06.2018 – דָּנִיֵּאל

64 thoughts on “Boxcar

  1. Daniel it is good to see you back on Word Press. I echo others thoughts in hoping all has been well with you and your family. Boxcar is a fabulous writing. Staring into ones fate is never easy. I like your recognition of all you have. This piece could very well have been written by Job. ❤ ❤ ❤


  2. Great post my young friend. As I grow older I find myself much in the same vein of thought as yourself. It is difficult to think that any fool would tempt fate. I believe better to recognize ones blessings such as you did in this piece. Well done.


  3. My brother, I had been thinking of dropping you an email to check on you, as it has been some time since you have posted, and I have missed you. “Boxcar” is as all your contributions full of depth and personal introspection that gives us all a blessed trail to follow. Welcome back. Shalom, Den


  4. Boxcar was another one of your post that sticks with me throughout the day. Haunting though it is I find great value in it, perhaps the thought of defeating a darkened fate and carrying on is it.


  5. Hi Daniel, I have missed your writing for some time now. It is good to see you back. Your return back with “Boxcar” is full of the best of you writing well. Haunting and full of spiritual depth. Shalom, Erin ❤


  6. Great piece Daniel. The same conversation takes place for many a thoughtful human being on the battlefield of life, and the questions as to ones fate are never put better than you placed them here. Great to see you back on and writing.


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