In the quiet corners of my mind, there exists a silent train. Its tracks run parallel to the paths I tread, unseen yet ever-present. This is the Neverland Express, where time is but an illusion, and reality bends as if touched by a magician's hand.
They say, when the train whistles, it calls to spirits adrift. A melody intertwining with shadows, whispering promises of lands unknown. Where do these whispers come from? The answer lies deep in the labyrinth of our own consciousness.
I often wonder if I am the conductor, guiding an unseen cohort through the mist, or merely a passenger, alone yet together. The journey has no destination, only the solace of the ride.
Skyward awaits, they murmur. Where horizons blaze an eternal red.
As we glide through the night, reflections of the past linger like old photographs fading at the edges. Here, the echoes of laughter and tears blend, forming a symphony of memories.
Each stopping station, a waypoint in the silhouette of existence itself. The walls of the mind echo with each passing thought, a reminder of what once was, and what may never be.
So, I ask again, who rides this train?
Soul Mapping, an exploration of more than just the physical realm; a navigation of the intangible, the whispered corridors, and phantoms that guide.
In the end, perhaps it matters not where the Neverland Express takes us. But how we find comfort in the journey, the reflections that accompany, and the labyrinth forever unfolding within.