Like a Kansas Indian of the old west I have had my ear to the rails for many years listening for the sound of an oncoming train. A train that must come. A train that is prophesied.
As a young man of 20 the train remained at a great distance, throwing up a lot of steam and, at times, getting a lot of attention because of it's faint sound and fury. But now, standing at the entrance of 60 years old, things have changed. They have intensified. The steel in the rails is alive with vibration and shudder.
Look now! Is that the outline of a locomotive in the distance? Yes. It is bearing down on us with it's stack billowing and it's smoke almost erasing the image before it can define itself.
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